


How Bright the Stars

by Lockea



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Asexual Male Character, Bisexual Male Character, Crossdressing, Dubious Consent, F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Polyamory, Slavery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-30
Updated: 2016-02-22
Packaged: 2018-04-12 03:33:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 24,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4463888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lockea/pseuds/Lockea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a universe where ShinRa owns much of the land and calls people among its possessions, an abolitionist eco-terrorist group called AVALANCHE is quickly gaining momentum, destroying buildings and secretly spiriting away Assets without a trace. Desperate to keep AVALANCHE’s actions a secret from the general public, the Turks manufacture a scandal worthy of every gossip magazine in Midgar and recruit one of the key players to investigate further into AVALANCHE’s activities; Midgar’s most famous Asset, the beautiful courtesan known as the Golden Rose.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introit

**Author's Note:**

> Have I ever mentioned how hard tagging is? Because it's hard. ANYWAY, all the characters tagged in the relationship section have healthy, consensual, unobjectionable relationships with each other. It's those passing relationships (like Cloud's clients) you gotta watch out for.
> 
> This chapter has a content warning for mentioned/off screen rape and also for mention of past rape. Always protect yourself first and foremost. Neither is graphic, however.

Well now, there it is; the rose.

The last smear of lipstick and a reflection in the mirror. A smile to charm firmly in place, even if it doesn’t reach blue eyes. Golden hair coiled elegantly and left free to flow down to the waist. The dress, silky red to compliment winter-pale skin, clings to the careful construction of curves, pulled tight here and left loose there, a long slit almost scandalous in its placement at the side. With every step creamy white skin would show, marred only by a tiny puckered pink scar on their thigh. Matching red shoes marked by a strap and a short heel slip on, the strap tucking up through golden anklets. The cuffs are thick, sometimes heavy, and marked by a chain of the same color. A subtle reminder. Matching bracelets, sans the chain, slip over thin wrists and delicate hands. The chain itself hangs like a necklace, looped twice and locked like a charm at the hollow of their throat.

Shadow, blush, mascara… an illusion so carefully crafted it would fool the world. Good. This is what the public wants; a doll to pose, to display, and to sell. And the world wanted to be deceived into believing it was real.

So why not let them be deceived?

*~*~* 

They buried his mother at noon, when the winter sun was highest in the sky. People who had never spoken to either of them came forward and offered him condolences, reminiscing on their few interactions with Sarah Strife. The story about how she’d shouted the mayor down in the town square eight years ago when he dared lay a hand on her son was mentioned several times, in tones that spoke of admiration for her bravery, and amusement at a mother’s wrath.

He hated that story. They hadn’t been there after when she’d cried herself to exhaustion tending contusions and lacerations. They hadn’t paid any attention to the sprained wrist that took almost as long to heal as Tifa’s injuries had, when she’d fallen off the mountain and he’d chased after to rescue her. His thanks for saving her life had been a beating, because the mayor needed someone to blame, and Sarah Strife’s bastard son was an easy target.

The only condolences that felt genuine came from Tifa Lockhart herself, tears gathering in warm brown eyes as she walked with him back to his house – the newly empty place that still felt too full of life. He sat at the table and she made tea in the kitchen as if she’d always been there, when in truth she’d never set foot in this place before. They were careful, after that incident, to pretend not to like each other, to hide away and catch each other only in the late hours of night or in the shadows behind buildings.

“Look on the bright side.” Tifa told him gently, setting tea that smelled of blackberries and currants – his mother’s favorite – on the table before him before taking a seat beside him. “She’s no longer in pain.”

“I’m almost relieved.” He admitted. His hands shook with grief and shame as he lifted the mug to his lips. The last two years had been terrible ones, as his mother grew sicker and sicker, and he grew less and less able to take care of her. “She’s not sick anymore, but what happens now?”

Tifa stared down at the table, frowning at the question. “Well, you could go to Midgar. Join the SOLDIER program like you always wanted to, or become an engineer and work on that big rocket in Rocket Town.” She grinned. “You could become an archivist.” The old joke fell flat. It only began because that was what Sarah had been, the archivist for the old Shinra Manor, so many years ago, and he vehemently wanted to do something more hands on in life, something that would make a tangible difference in the world.

He shook his head. “Only if the mayor lets me go.” By town law, all children without relatives to care for them were considered wards of the mayor, and he their legal guardian. “He might sell me instead.”

Tifa bit her lip. “I talked to him this morning, made him listen to me. I told him I’d leave if something happened to you, and I think he knows I’m not bluffing. I don’t think he’ll call the hunters in, but you should… be prepared… if that happens.”

“I won’t go with the hunters.” He told her fiercely. He rose from the table and headed to the pantry, gathering together non-perishable food for a pack like the ones he used when he went hunting in the mountains.

Tifa stared at him in alarm. “You’re going to run?!” Her terror was evident in the stiffness of her shoulders, the way her hands gripped edge of the wooden table. “Cloud! Don’t be foolish! If the hunters catch you –“

“They won’t catch me.” His tone was steely, determined. “I’ll go to Cosmo Canyon. It’s one of the few places ShinRa can’t reach me.”

She couldn’t argue with him, not when he was like this. “All right.” She said, rising up to gather together winter clothing – heavy jacket, boots, hat. “I’ll help you, but promise me you won’t get caught.”

It had been such an easy promise to make.

*~*~*

Tonight it is opening night on Loveless Avenue, and the press from every major publication has shown up for the red carpet event. Behind red velvet rope gather hundreds of fans, all screaming and hollering as they see someone they recognize, either from the news or from the gossip magazines. Even the courtesans, so often plastered across gossip magazines and trotted out to be put on display at these events, had their share of fans, people who envied their beauty and the allure of their life.

(If only they knew what it was really like.)

So of course there’s cheering, loud and frantic, when the Golden Rose steps out of the limo, red dress shimmering in the flash of a thousand cameras. The client for tonight, the escort, is the Vice President of ShinRa, and only son (unless you believed the rumors) of the company’s President, none other than Rufus Shinra himself. They’re old hands at this; Rose is a favorite courtesan of the VP, and a darling in the spotlight as well.

Together they wave, looking like a perfect couple, these two beautiful people; one representing the power of ShinRa in the world, the other presenting the forbidden and unknown of a life glamorized by the media. The juxtaposition of the desire for power and the power to be desired couldn’t be more obvious than it is here, with the two of them posing for photographs together. But the Golden Rose didn’t become a Golden Rose without understanding the interplay of power, so there are waves, and smiles, and kisses to the crowd as they cheer out both their names.

All the while, Rose considers the timing of this event, the abruptness of the VP’s declaration to attend, and the equal abruptness with which Rose was pulled from their original client to be reassigned at the last minute to Rufus. A Shinra never does anything without reason (well, almost anything) and meticulous foresight.

Nobody tells Rose anything, but if the rumors are to be believed, then perhaps gossip and speculation are what the masses need right now.  _Panem et Circe_. Watch the spectacle, forget the truth. Maybe it’s what they deserve – maybe it’s what Rose deserves, to be made the jester of ShinRa’s court.

When they finally enter into the theater and take their seats, it’s near enough to curtain call that the theater is periodically lowering the house lights. Tucked away in a private booth, Rose doesn’t protest when Rufus’s hand slides up their thigh, almost groping. He leans down to whisper, lips brushing against silver metal tag though the cartilage in Rose’s upper ear. “I’m going to enjoy tonight.”

Rose smiles, careful and coy as they lean more fully against Rufus’s body, one hand coming to rest on his shoulder. “I should hope so.” The words are teasing and light, with an airiness not felt past the surface. “You always do when I’m around.”

Isn’t that the truth.

Rufus hums in agreement, hand hiked far enough under Rose’s skirt that he’s brushing against the soft, flat expanse of the courtesan’s abdomen, stroking softly enough to make Rose moan quietly and buck against the maddening ticklish sensation. “Tonight’s special, little flower. I’m going to trample you so far into the ground it’ll make all those other nights look like child’s play by comparison.”

Rose can’t suppress the shudder those words inflict, but carefully maintains the calm, coy attitude that is not so much second nature as it is first by now. “Well then, let’s see you try.”

*~*~*

He stayed up late that night, waiting for the knock, worrying what he would do if he slept through it. When it came he didn’t hesitate. He grabbed his pack and went out the back window, listening to the knocks as they grew louder, and accompanied by a booming, unfamiliar voice informing him that the man at the door was a hunter with ShinRa’s Asset division, and that he needed to open the door and come quietly.

Like hell. He would rather die first. So he ran into the woods as fresh falling snow covered his tracks. When he reached the tree line he paused for just a moment, looking back at the town that had been his home for sixteen years, and the house that had meant the world to him and his mother. He’d never see it again, whatever happened next. When the sound of the front door being knocked off its hinges echoed in the still and the quiet, he turned and kept going. Every second was precious now.

Through the night he travelled. When the snow fall let up, the clouds parted to reveal a moon so bright it lit the snow up like day, but the muffled sound and the dense wood kept the hunter out of sight, until even the sound of the hunter’s chocobo crying faded away. The hunt had been abandoned, to be resumed when daylight broke. So he took extra caution to covers his tracks and found shelter to huddle up in, digging into his heavy jacket and warming his frozen hands against his skin. It was freezing, but he’d suffered through worse, growing up in these mountains.

He’d made it through the first night. Now he just had to get down the mountain and to Cosmo Canyon. It was one of the last refuges from ShinRa’s possession, and he’d be safe there until things died down. After that… well… maybe he’d go to Midgar when it was safe, or maybe he’d stay. He didn’t have to decide tonight.

He slept lightly, ever wary of being caught off guard.

*~*~*

After the show, there’s a reception at the newly opened Grand Hotel just off of Loveless Avenue. The actors and the courtesans mingle together with socialites in a veritable who’s who of Midgar. The Golden Rose remains firmly ensconced at Rufus Shinra’s side, keeping silent but with a charitable, open smile unless asked a direct question. Desirable, but not available. Not when Rufus owned their contract for the evening.

It seems too soon, too early when Rufus excuses them both from conversation with a wink about how tired he’s feeling. It’s always struck Rose how strange the euphemisms are, as if it’s not obvious that you’re bowing out to go fuck around. Indeed, the elevator doors are barely closed, the passcode to the penthouse suite punched, before Rufus descends on Rose, one hand slipping back beneath the dress as another grips once meticulous golden curls, yanking Rose’s head backwards to offer Rufus easy access to their neck, which he nuzzles and kisses and nips at.

“I’m going to wreck you.” Rufus promises. “The whole building will hear you screaming, begging me to fuck you.”

Rose moans behind closed red lips, arching into his touch. “What if I don’t want to beg?” A challenge, knowing it’s what Rufus wants – a fight, a reason for the violence. He doesn’t want it to be unprovoked – that ruins the point of it. Rose has to do something to deserve it; step out of place and be pushed back into it. Three years they’ve been playing this game, dancing around each other as Rose lets Rufus pretend he wins whenever Rose goes down. But the Golden Rose does not diminish under a little tarnish, and so Rufus’s continued threats of destruction are just that – a threat of temporary annihilation, not total. “You’ll have to work pretty hard if you want to play on my level.”

There it is, that’s all he needs before cold blue eyes light up. The elevator chimes open and Rose is shoved out, the force sending Rose stumbling and tripping over the chain that binds their ankles, crashing to hands and knees. Then Rufus is there, the lacing on the dress ripped out as he pulls it off violently, leaving Rose panting and mildly disoriented in just the padded bra and lacy panties. Rufus buries his hand in mussed golden hair, pulling Rose into a crushing kiss that demands submission, demands the return to Rose’s rightful place.

Elegant, mysterious, seductive. Those are the traits courtesans sell their wares on, but there’s nothing elegant here, not in this forced submission. Not in the lack of a choice.

All courtesans are Assets; all Assets are slaves.

So when Rufus pushes him down, he stays down, and let’s Rufus take the Golden Rose apart one kick, one slap, one cut at a time. Rufus likes him best this way, vulnerable and raw. As if seeing him cry gives Rufus power over him.

It does.

*~*~*

He was up and on his feet before he’d even fully woken up, the sound of voices calling to each other far too close for comfort. Over the past few days he’d noticed an increase in the number of hunters in the area, as reinforcements were called in to look for him. ShinRa prided itself on its zero-runaway policy, and if he had the gil, he’d bet the extra reinforcements were out here because there was no way ShinRa was going to let a sixteen year old from a small backwater mountain town be their first.

He was determined to prove them wrong.

The voices came from the north, so he turned to the south and ran. By now he’s made it far enough down the mountain for snow drift to turn to slick rain and mud. It soaked through his clothes, leaving him wet and cold and slightly feverish from the sickness he knew he was developing, but he was still alive. He was still alive and he would make it to Cosmo Canyon.

He moved quickly, listening carefully for the sound of a chocobo’s warbling, or a hunter’s call – anything that would alert him to their imminent presence. He had the advantage of familiarity, but it had begun to wear out the further he went, as the woods became less familiar to him and more familiar to the hunters.

He stopped at a stream around noon, sandy bank visible from beneath the clear stream. There wasn’t a smell, but that didn’t mean it was safe drink. But he was out of water, so he had to take a chance and filled from there quickly before he continued on his way. He followed the stream a ways down, boots splashing in the ankle-deep water, before cutting back to the south when it turned north again. That was when he heard the cry.

A sharp snapping sound, and the foliage under him gave way. He tumbled in, ankle twisting painfully as he landed with a scream at the bottom of a man-made animal trap. It was ten feet deep, and six feet across, dug quickly with a little assistance from earth-based magic. He searched the walls, looking for roots or rocks that could be used as handholds to climb out. Nothing, the face had been stripped clean. Not an animal trap then. A human trap.

He cursed himself for being so stupid. He’d been herded to this area, where there were probably several traps hidden just waiting for him to stumble upon. They may not have known where he was, but they had guessed where he would go. He dug his fingers into the dirt and began to climb, ignoring the searing pain and swelling of his ankle. No! He would not go without a fight.

Three times he tried to climb out, before finally he cast his leg over the edge, just as five hunters mounted on green chocobos cleared the tree line. He stared at them for only a moment before rolling back to his feet and ran off, limping slightly even as he shoved the aching pain from his mind.

He heard one shout, “Don’t let him get away.” And another, “Got him.” Just before he felt a bullet tearing through his thigh, bringing him down to the damp leaf covered ground. He bit back a sob, pain and despair and exhaustion all rolled into one as he heard the shuffling footsteps of the hunters approaching him.

He’d failed. He couldn’t keep his promise to Tifa after all.

*~*~*

He wakes to the sound of familiar voices speaking softly, followed by the chime of an elevator arriving and departing. He keeps his eyes closed, feigning sleep for as long as possible. Moments later, gentle hands unchain his wrists before pulling him upright on the bed. Abused muscles protest the movement, and he bites back a cry behind swollen lips, one pain a distraction from another. There isn’t a piece that doesn’t feel raw or shattered, and he doesn’t understand why there is no familiar glow of materia, no healing spell being cast on him. Normally, it’s the first thing they do before they even move him.

“Shit, he really did a number on you tonight, huh Rose?” A familiar voice asks from above him and hands reach to brush back tangled blond hair from where it covers his face like a shield. He blinks once and opens his eyes to meet the concerned blue ones of the Turk standing over him. He’s a familiar and welcome sight after these encounters, red hair pulled back in a low tail, goggles like a headband holding the most untamable locks back from his face. Twin scars, a reminder of where he came from, cup each eye. The silver tag gleams in the low light from where it pierces the cartilage of his upper ear.

“Don’t call me that.” He grumbles, but Reno just laughs in response.

Those same hands brush over his waist and down his legs, soothing and gentle, until they pause on the old scar on his thigh, where a bullet once ripped through the flesh there. “Cloud, then.” Reno says, lips brushing featherlike over the bruise on his cheek. “C’mon, you’ve got one last performance for the night, yo, so make it your best.” Then Reno releases him and the other Turk – the Wutaian man who only sometimes accompanies Reno, Tseng – drops the red dress next to him on the bed. The laces are torn out, and there’s a split in the side seam. It’s unwearable as it is, trashed.

“I don’t understand.” Cloud whispers, glancing between the two Turks even as he picks up the dress. The underwear is ruined completely; cut away with a knife that had left long scratches on his back and hips. “Where are my other clothes? Why haven’t you healed me yet?”

Tseng’s voice is cool, tinged with that usual dispassion that is in complete opposition to Reno’s fire, as he answers, “Your clothes are in the car waiting to take you back to the tower. You’ll be healed once we’re in the car.”

Cloud’s eyes narrow at that. “You want me to walk through the lobby and the street looking like this?” He gestures to himself; the mussed hair, the smeared make-up, the bloody cuts and blue-purple bruises that are stark against pale skin. “What are you thinking? There are still cameras and reporters down there. You’ll create a scandal!”

Nobody knows what Rufus Shinra does to him. Nobody but the Turks. He can’t fathom why the Turks, of all people, would want to mire the two of them in public outrage, which is all this can lead to. For one, or for the other, depending on how it’s spun. Rufus Shinra beats the Golden Rose bloody at a party. Either Shinra is a sadist (accurate) or Rose did something to deserve it. Either way, one or both of them is going to take the fall. Cloud has a feeling it will be him, alone, if the Turks are involved.

“What did I do wrong?” He can’t help the shattered edge of desperation that sneaks into his voice. “I did everything I was supposed to. I didn’t disobey. I didn’t…”

“Cloud,” Reno says, kneeling down in front of him, taking Cloud’s hands in his. “Do you trust me?” Of course, the answer is yes. Cloud doesn’t trust very many people, but Reno has something in common with the pretty courtesan, something that bound them together from the day they met. Reno doesn’t lie, at least not to Cloud, even when he needs to be cruel like he is right now.

“You know I do.” Cloud answers easily.

Reno just nods, expression somber. “Then believe that we never do anything without a reason, yo, and that you have done nothing wrong.”

It’s not an easy thing to believe, but trust isn’t something people earn from Cloud easily. Reno has earned that trust a hundred times over. So he nods, and picks up the dress, slipping it back over his head. It falls awkwardly around him, too loose in the chest, torn out at the waist, and slipping off his shoulders to the point where he has to cross his arms to help keep it up. When he dares to stand, pain shoots through his spine and he stumbles, falling against Reno.

“C’mon,” The Turk encourages. “It’s not a long walk.” He slips one arm around Cloud’s waist, offering a supporting hand as Cloud takes a few treacherous steps towards the elevator. Tseng retrieves his shoes but there’s no way he can handle the heel on them in this state, so he walks barefoot, limping and chewing on his lip to keep from crying out in pain.

Rose is gone, and there is no time to gather his thoughts and put the mask back on, so he’ll have to do this as Cloud. It’s difficult, especially when the doors open and he’s faced with a lobby that, while not full, still has people lingering in it. People who stop and stare as Reno pushes him gently forward, escorting him out into the humid Midgar night. The whispers and scandalized looks follow them outside. There’s a flash of a camera the moment he steps down the stairs to where a nondescript black car is waiting, another Turk holding the back door open. Then there’s another flash, followed by several more. They’ll be all over the tabloids by morning, he’s sure. His shame dragged out for public spectacle.

_Bread and Circuses_ , he remembers. The Turks need a distraction from something. Something’s happened, and this is how they’re hiding it from public knowledge. He’d think it was clever, if he wasn’t the one affected by it.

*~*~*

The room was a cold steel gray, barren save for the table in the middle and two chairs across from each other. A mirror on the wall reflected back his haggard appearance. His blue eyes were ringed with dark circles, lips chapped and drawn in a thin line. The skin on his upper ear was inflamed and sore from where they’d tagged him, like an animal for slaughter. His clothes had been taken from him, replaced by a white shift that hung to his knees, loose and shapeless. They’d chained his hands to the table, steel gray cuffs brushing against the rope burns left on his wrists from where the hunters had tied him too tight. On his ankles was the hobble, called a Runner’s Chain, and he’d been informed that he would be wearing it for most of the rest of his life as punishment for fleeing.

Cloud couldn’t bring himself to care. He was still numb from the shock of being captured.

The door beside the mirror opened, admitting a young woman with steel grey eyes and brown hair pulled back in a tight bun. Her blue pantsuit was immaculate, tailored and sharp, just like the rest of her. She took a seat across the table from him and set a folder down on the table. Flipping it open, she read from the first page. “Cloud, age sixteen, born in Nibelheim to Sarah Strife. No father, so after her death the mayor of Nibelheim, Andrew Lockheart, claimed legal custody. Then, as was his right as a legal guardian, he sold you to ShinRa.” She glanced up at him, catching his eyes. “Is that right?”

“It must be.” Cloud snapped, bitterness he couldn’t hide making its way into his words. “Since I’m here wearing these.” He shook the chains in his hand, metal echoing loudly off the steel gray walls.

The woman clicked her tongue in disappointment. “I’d watch your tone Cloud. You’re lucky to even be alive. Eight days in the wilderness with dragons and wolves who could have killed you, all for what? Some silly attempt at running away? Foolish, and a shame.”

Cloud refused to dignify her with a response. He didn’t regret it, and he would do it again if he ever got the chance. If he ever found a way to get the cuffs off his ankles and the tag out of his ear so ShinRa couldn’t track him.  

“Normally, you would be sent to the Corel Mines. Ever since the discovery of diamond and the production of a materia mine, they’ve been stocked with Assets who have a… less than trustworthy reputation. Runners, violent criminals, terrorists.” The woman explained, and Cloud felt his heart stop.

Everyone had heard of the Corel Mines. How ShinRa had chased the original inhabitants of Corel out and converted the place to suit their needs. How the Assets there were violent and the conditions so poor the average life expectancy of a miner there was less than three years. Shit. He’d never escape if they sent him to the mines! He’d be dead before he even reached majority at eighteen.

As if she could read his thoughts, the woman said, “You’re a special case, however. You’re very young for an Asset, and your mother just died. There are trainers here who feel that while you did run, you shouldn’t be condemned for it. There’s not much a Runner can do, as you can’t be trusted in any sort of position of authority, not even as a secretary. However, one of the few areas we see no problem allowing a Runner in for training is for our courtesan program. It helps that you’re a very attractive young man.

“So, Cloud, you have a choice. As long as you’re on your best behavior – not so much as a toe out of line – you can train as a courtesan. It’s a cushy life, accompanying and entertaining the upper echelons of society as an ambassador of ShinRa’s hospitality. You wouldn’t have to worry about death or starvation or crippling injuries.”

It was the kind of life that magazines and newspapers glamorized. Costa del Sol advertised its branch of the Department of Hospitality even as far as quiet Nibelheim, extolling people like it extoled it’s beaches. Whores for sale, if you could pay the right price. Well trained seducers happy to make your every dream come true. He couldn’t even imagine himself as one of them, one of those  _products_  with faces so serene he wanted to scream. What was wrong with them? Did they have no pride?

“Your other option is go to the mines. I think with a face like yours you’d be a nice treat for the men and women there. They’re a rough sort, you know, a lot more so than you. And I very much doubt the foreman would mind if the Assets had a bit of fun.”

Cloud felt physically sick. His stomach twisted like it’s was trying to climb back up his throat. That was it then. Behave and trade his dignity for security and the prayer that he’d one day find a way out of this, or keep his pride intact and potentially face abuse and an early death as someone ShinRa had turned their back on.

He was here, and this was now, and there was a part of him that wanted to live stronger than the part of him that screamed about pride and honor and dignity. Freedom would be worth it.

*~*~*

Another Turk is waiting in the back when Cloud climbs in, followed after by Tseng and Reno before their driver shuts the door and starts the car. She’s a curly haired redhead Cloud has seen a few times. Reno’s housemate. The silver earing gives her away to him. Her name is Cissnei. She smiles at him when he slips in, holding a folded pile of clothing on her lap which – mercifully – includes comfortable undergarments. There is a bright spot to this!

Reno sits next to him, facing across from Tseng who pulls materia from a box on the floor and slots it on his bracer. Cloud breathes a sigh of relief as the pain in his back and legs vanishes, the cuts healing without a scar and the worst of the bruises fading to a yellow-brown color that will be gone by morning. Cloud pulls the dress none too gently over his head and flings it into Reno’s lap. He’s not concerned by his nudity, hasn’t been for a long time. Even in the cramped space of the car where he’s practically in Cissnei’s lap it doesn’t bother him, although judging by Cissnei’s blush the Turk Asset is not as blasé as her partners.

Cissnei hands the clothes over wordlessly and Cloud slips into the underwear, lacing it up quickly. Clothes designed for Runners are rare and hard to come by, but Cloud is grateful he owns several sets. Most days, going commando’s not a problem, but sometimes it’s nice to have a little extra protection from the outside world. The skirt – plain black jersey that falls all the way to his ankles – goes on next, though it takes almost as much fussing with as the underwear does. Then the blouse, also black, but with long sleeves and a high collar, loose enough around the chest to give the illusion of femininity even without the corresponding breasts. This is what Cloud feels most comfortable in, these days, and in less than five minutes he’s leaning back on the seat, staring at Tseng and wondering if he’s going to explain why the Turks just paraded him in front of all of Midgar looking like a two gil slum whore.

Reno wraps one arm around Cloud’s shoulder and pulls him just a bit closer in a half hug, the familiarity of it warm and welcome, but Cloud is still feeling the cold sting of humiliation in his chest, so he doesn’t reciprocate or soften his cool expression.

“So,” Cloud asks when the silence begins to get to him, as neither Cissnei nor Tseng even so much as comment on Reno’s forwardness with one of ShinRa’s courtesans. Then again, Cloud would be surprised if they didn’t at least have a hint about their relationship. “Can I ask why that just happened?”

Being healed makes him feel less broken and raw, and some of his natural stubbornness is starting to rear its head. He’s not sure he’ll back down until the Turks tell him.

“It’s a cover, yo.” Reno says, and it fails as an explanation so hard that Cloud can only glare at him.

“Yes, I guessed that much, thank you. Something went down recently and you don’t want the media paying attention to it. That’s why Rufus suddenly decided he wanted to go to the opening on Loveless Avenue tonight. That’s why I was pulled from my original client, and that’s why you want to humiliate me on Midgar’s networks. So the media will pay attention to Rufus and I instead of whatever’s really happening.”

By the way Cissnei’s eyebrows shoot up at that, Cloud figures he’s right. “Wow, Reno. You weren’t kidding when you said he was smart for a courtesan.” Did she have to include that qualifier?

Cloud rolls his eyes but doesn’t comment. He’s used to people underestimating him by now. He has a pretty face and has perfected the vapid expression – of course nobody realizes that every move he makes is calculated as if his life depended on it. “So, what happened?”

“That’s none of your concern.” Tseng cuts in before either Cissnei or Reno can answer. “And you’re only half correct. Any distraction would have worked, but we chose you – and this – specifically. Tell me, Cloud, how would you like to have your Runner status revoked?”

Cloud stares at him. He’s known Tseng for three years now and though he wouldn’t say he knows the man well, he thinks he knows enough to believe that Tseng is too straight-laced to shit him like this.

But he could be wrong. “You’re kidding, right?” He kicks his legs up on the other seat, between Tseng and Cissnei, pulling the skirt back so that the gold anklets and the chain that binds them is on full display. “These are how people know not to trust us. Once you try to run, nobody ever trusts you again and ShinRa makes sure the whole world knows it. How the hell would that ever change and why would anyone want to change it?”

“Simple.” Tseng says, and like it really is simple explains, “The status can be revoked if you perform service of extraordinary merit to the company. Once you’re no longer a Runner, you can be recruited into a position outside the Department of Hospitality. Perhaps even recruited to the Turks, for example.”

For a long moment Cloud is speechless, staring back and forth at the three Turks in the vehicle, all with the same unreadable facial expressions. When the shock wears off, suspicion sets in. “What’s the catch?”

So Tseng explains and Cloud listens, disbelief growing with every sentence. What Tseng asks of him is not easy, nor is it particularly safe. In fact, it’s asking an awful lot of trust from Cloud in light of tonight’s events and those in the past, trust that Cloud doesn’t exactly have a lot of to give. But the idea of having his Runner status revoked… of being able to leave the Department of Hospitality and become a Turk instead… it’s tempting. Far too tempting, given the cost.

“You don’t have to decide tonight.” Tseng says at the conclusion, as the car is pulling into the ShinRa Tower parking garage and they’re climbing out. “Think it over and let Reno know tomorrow morning. Don’t delay. We have a lot of work to do tomorrow, depending on what you decide.”

It’s an impossible choice, but Cloud just barely refrains from saying yes. He’s grateful, then, when Reno puts an arm around his waist and leads him away before he can do something he’ll regret later. Freedom from chains seems so close, and even if being a Turk Asset isn’t true freedom, it’s still a very close second.

*~*~*

There was a garrison of SOLDIERs stationed and working out of the first floor of the ATC. Something was going on in Midgar, and the extra SOLDIERs had been sent out to patrol and investigate, to protect Rocket Town from some unknown threat. Of course, no one had told Cloud anything about it, except that he wasn’t to be around the SOLDIERs unless he was with a trainer.

The other Assets-in-training had taken the change in stride, especially since the SOLDIERs were equally content to ignore them, but Cloud was a Runner and the only courtesan at the time. He knew what he looked like, alternatively dressed in clothes that left his skin bare and exposed and clothes that were modest but intended for a girl to wear. Between that, the make-up he was getting better at applying, and the hair extensions that brought his slowly growing hair down to his shoulders, he knew every time the SOLDIERs saw him they watched him closely, like wolves eyeing a juicy steak.

He wasn’t afraid of them, though, and because of his training he spent more time around the SOLDIERs than the other Assets did. Whether it was as innocuous as a dinner with the captain that oversaw the garrison in order to practice social etiquette (admittedly Cloud’s weakest skill), or more emotionally demanding such as allowing a small group of them, under the watchful eyes of his trainer, to grope and manhandle him. The only rules for those latter encounters being that they couldn’t penetrate him and they couldn’t injure him – not so much as a bruise. Not that it made it any easier to be treated like a doll and used openly in front of so many different people, over and over again until he was numb with it. But even then he didn’t fear the SOLDIERs; they were just men who were physically more powerful but maintained strict discipline and stood for ideals such as protection for all people. That was what the captain, a First Class SOLDIER, liked to boast anyway.

It should never have happened the way it did. Most of the garrison was out on patrol, a few remaining behind in case of an emergency. The trainers were occupied with the arrival of a new Asset, but Cloud’s had pulled him aside and trusted him with an errand; deliver a dinner invitation to the SOLDIER Captain. He’d walked through the first floor of the ATC hundreds of times, and through the occupied SOLDIER corridors dozens. So what if he was without his trainer today? Obviously she felt it was safe enough for him.

When it was over, when Cloud awoke in the infirmary with a broken hip and a concussion, alongside so many other minor injuries that felt like major ones, everything he’d thought about himself, and about SOLDIERs changed.

There was nothing Cloud remembered about the incident, except the words. Runner slut, whore, bitch. Each one a fresh wound on his heart. Being made to recite them back to the SOLDIER Second Class who investigated the incident at the insistence of the ATC personnel had been worse, in many ways, than the attack itself. He couldn’t even bring himself to say the worst of the words, keeping those hidden away in a desperate attempt to bury the worst of the pain.

At the conclusion, three Third Class SOLDIERs were charged with damage to company property and docked pay before being assigned to a new position in Wutai. There wouldn’t even be a mark on their files, just a reprimand and reassignment. “It’s not worth ruining the career of three promising young men.” The Second Class informed Cloud’s trainer. “Though we will have them send a formal apology to the ATC for delaying your training and damaging your Asset.”

An apology to his trainer, not to him. For damage done. Well, that was one word for it. Cloud had another; rape.

Protection for all people did not include Cloud, it seemed. Before this he hadn’t known it, but now he did. He wasn’t a person anymore. He was an Asset.

*~*~*

“Talk, yo.” Reno orders the moment he shuts the door to Cloud’s room. The Department of Hospitality is silent this early in the morning; the rest of the courtesans either asleep or with clients for the next few hours. They’ve got this part down to an art, as nobody pays much attention to the Turk Asset who escorts the Vice President’s favorite courtesan back to his room on a regular basis. It gives them precious time to spend together, and talking is the last thing Cloud wants to use that time for. Sleeping curled up in Reno’s arms sounds much more preferable. “You haven’t said a word since we got out of the car.”

Cloud ignores him, stripping out of his clothes quickly, comfortable though they are. He makes his way to the small adjoining bathroom – utilitarian to the extreme, but serviceable for moments like this. He scraps away dried blood and other fluid from his skin, not caring that the damp scratchy washcloth rubs raw skin still tender from recent healing. He doesn’t stop until Reno wraps his arms over Cloud’s and takes the rag from his hands. “Cloud.” Reno says softly, “I can tell when you’re upset, yo. You shut down and pretend the world’s not there even as it keeps knocking on your door. Open up, ya moron.”

He doesn’t even know where to begin. “I haven’t been on a companionship contract in nearly five years.” Cloud says. It’s as good a place as any.

“Then I’d say you’re overdue, yo. You could use the break.” Reno wets the rag down and starts cleaning Cloud’s back, the motions soft but firm as he scratches away dried blood. He sees blood every day in his line of work. Turks are bodyguards, assassins, and spies all rolled into one. It doesn’t make seeing his lover bleed any easier, especially not when Reno knows who did it but is powerless to stop it from happening.

Cloud just shakes his head, pulling his hair out of the way so Reno can reach his shoulders. He starts untangling his hair with his fingers, before beginning a messy, halfhearted braid. “No, you don’t understand. I can’t do the twenty-four-seven life. You’ve seen it; I can’t even keep my mask on for a night. How am I supposed to do it for six months?”

“You don’t, yo.”

Cloud spins away, grabbing the rag out of his lover’s hand and tossing it in the sink before he stalks out of the room and back to the bed, sitting down on the comforter – blue, just like his eyes. The room is matched to Cloud’s personality, not the Golden Rose’s. He never takes clients in here, just Reno and sometimes the other courtesans. “That’s rich, Reno. You know me. I’m acerbic and callous. I don’t like talking, I’m not charming, and I just want to be left alone. What courtesan has a personality like that? What person wants a courtesan like that? At least Rose is… Rose is better at everything, but I can’t hold that mask, that character for more than a few hours at a time.”

“I don’t think he’d mind if you weren’t cheerful all the time, yo.” Reno says. He’s slipping out of his clothes now, laying them over the back of the chair in front of Cloud’s vanity. The surface of it is covered with cosmetics and lotions, still a mess from getting dressed for the evening. Reno doesn’t mind that the place is cluttered and messy. It usually is, by the time Reno comes around.

“He? You mean the SOLDIER Commander?” And those words send a shudder through his spine. Anyone else; anyone at all and this choice would have been easier to make. But it had to be a SOLDIER, and worse still the Second in Command of all the SOLDIERs in the world.

Reno nods. He and Cloud pull the sheets back, climbing in. Cloud hits the lights as Reno sets an alarm on his PHS. It’ll vibrate in a few hours, letting him know that he needs to be out of Hospitality before first shift begins. Until then, they tangle up in each other like puzzle pieces fitting together. Reno’s bony shoulders and elbows and knees warm against Cloud’s supple skin. “I know him, yo. He’s not bad. Kinda dopey and so happy you want to smack him. He’s good people.”

“He’s a SOLDIER.” Cloud replies. “They’re not good people. They’re monsters, all of them. Mako’s not meant to be absorbed into the body like that.”

“Now you sound like AVALANCHE, yo.”

Cloud frowns. Neither of them like AVALANCHE very much, though Cloud only knows bits and pieces from watching news reports that are supposed to be contraband to Runners and listening in on his clients’ gossip. It’s amazing how easily lips loosen after sex. They’re eco-terrorists who occasionally play at abolitionists, and wreck lives in the process. They’re horrible.

“What about your last contract? Did you keep Rose up the whole time then, too?” Reno asks curiously.

Cloud shakes his head. “Rose didn’t exist at that time. And she was nice. Her boyfriend too, though he was a little rough around the edges and liked to yell all the damn time. Every second word out of his mouth was a curse, worse than you. They made the best tea, tasted just like what my mom used to make.” He trails off thoughtfully before snapping back. “They didn’t mind. I always thought it was because she was kind of a doormat and her boyfriend liked my fire. It was really nice, living with them for three months.”

“It might be like that with Zack Fair if you give him a chance.” Reno says. “Do you trust me?”

The second time tonight, with the same answer. “You know I do.”

“Then I think you should take Tseng’s offer. Zack’s not like those fuckers that hurt you. He wouldn’t hurt a fly, yo.”

Cloud sighs heavily and nestles down next to Reno, eyes closed as he drifts to sleep. “I’ll do it.” He whispers. “Because I trust you to know what you’re doing, and to not hurt me more than necessary.”

“Babe, if I could, I wouldn’t hurt you at all. You know that, right?”

“I know.”

*~*~*

There was not a thing about him that was real. Even his body had been manufactured by a careful diet and exercise routine to look the way they wanted him to. Delicate, desirable. Neither man nor woman but a doll, an inanimate object to be acted upon rather than to serve as the actor.

The last smear of lip gloss and the reflection in the mirror. Beautiful, if somber. Mouth pressed in a thin line because it was impossible to smile right now. Short blond hair gelled so that unruly spikes stayed down, extensions woven into twin braids. The dress was lovely, perfect for a girl of seventeen. And that’s what they wanted, a girl, so that’s what they will get. Purple fabric with a red bow masked the absence of a chest, flared skirt masked the absence of hips. Modest and dainty, but fashionable. The heel on the matching Maryjanes was not too high, the straps of the shoes buckled just underneath the gold anklets connected by a filigree chain. The skirt would hide it from view; no one would notice so long as the steps were small and soft. White gloves pulled up over delicate hands, where calluses were slowly sloughing off; the dead skin of who he once was.

The Golden Rose looked out from the mirror, a thing with no identity save for the one they desired. An illusion of whatever they wanted, given to them without reservation.

Well now, there it was; a puppet.


	2. Gifts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's an explosion in Rocket Town, and Captain Highwind's having none of this shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It seems like I get sick and then all of a sudden I update prolifically. This week I ended up in the hospital with severe vertigo. Mostly I ended up in the hospital because my RA at school had this massive freakout and almost called an ambulance on me. Now I get to go see a neurologist, so now I can say I have both mental and neurological problems. In other words -- my brain really fuckin' hates me. So anyway, since I can't really stand up and walk around this week, I've been working on my writing instead of my thesis (hahaha, my poor thesis... so neglected). I'm now posting "The Festival of Stars" so if you're looking for a complicated overthought KH/FF crossover about politics and romance, go check that out. 
> 
> Anyway, this chapter goes back a few days and gives context to the prologue chapter. It also branches out and gives us a view of the world in which this story takes place. I hope you enjoy.
> 
> OH! Before I forget -- Marlene is aged up two years in this fic because the Corel incident happened two years earlier, that way Gold Saucer already existed/was being built when Cloud was first sold. So in other words I needed to do it to get my personal timeline to work out correctly. Apologies to the canon purists out there who are probably thumbing their noses at me.

The explosion shook every building in the town, a rumble like a small earthquake followed by a shock wave that vibrated off of every glass in town and broke the ones closest to the epicenter; the north end, where the Solid Rocket Fuel Factory was located. It was impossible to sleep through, so before he’d even fully woken up Captain Cid Highwind was rolling out of bed and searching for discarded clothing, all the while cursing the occurrence of one of his greatest fears. His girlfriend sat up beside him, watching him with a mixture of concern and fear at the noise.

“Should I go with you?” She asked, voice gentle as always.

“Nah, get some sleep. Doc says you need it.” Cid called over his shoulder, already out the door before she could protest. It’d be a miracle if she ever listened to him.

The streets were filled as if first shift had started, people running towards the north end of town to assess the damage, likewise fearing the destruction of the factory. Even with the rocket in its current state and the factory closed since that failed launch several years before, the place still housed the components needed to create the solid engine – ammonium percolate, aluminum, and mako to bind it. If you lived in Rocket Town, you were well aware of just how dangerous the combination of the three was, and the threat it posed if ignited.

Towards the square in the north end, people came to a halt, gathering in crowds to watch the tiny fires burn out, the heat of the initial blast gone as nothing but rubble and dust remained. Cid pushed his way through the crowd and halted.

The factory was not on fire.

Instead the building beside It, Rocket Town Asset Training Center, lay in ruins with the handiwork of a careful, controlled demolition. Whoever had done it was good; they’d known the factory was next door and avoided bringing it down. The timing couldn’t have been better either; the center was currently empty due to a major electrical system failure that was currently under repair. The Assets and trainers were in Corel instead, at a temporary location. Cid only allowed himself to be impressed for a moment before he turned to regard the crowd of awestruck mechanics, engineers, and scientists who made up the vast majority of Rocket Town’s population.

“All right, listen up you sons of bitches!” He shouted, “We got a building down with potential for survivors. Get your asses moving and let’s see if we can’t find them. The rest of you, search the area! See if you can’t find the fuckers who think they can waltz into Rocket Town and destroy it.”

The crowd cheered – if there was one thing Rocket Town still had, it was pride in who they were and what they did. They mobilized quickly, and Cid watched for no more than a few minutes before heading back towards his house on the other side of town.

He had a few phone calls to make. ShinRa had better get out here and clean up their damn mess this time or Cid really would lead the town to mutiny against them; threat of imprisonment or no, nobody messed with Rocket Town. Not AVALANCHE, and not ShinRa either.

*~*~*

“I believe it’s time we appointed a new executive officer to the SOLDIER program.” Lazard Deusericus said.

Across the desk from him, at rest, General Sephiroth’s only change in expression was a slight lowering of his brow. “Are you asking me or telling me?”

“Telling, General. It’s been nearly five years since Commanders Hewley and Rhapsodos were killed in action and reported missing, respectively. We’re both good at our jobs, but without at least a field commander it’s nearly impossible to keep up with the requests for SOLDIER aid. Monster attacks have risen two hundred percent in the last two years, unrest on the Western Continent might become full scale rebellion, and AVALANCHE is becoming bolder. They bombed another training center last night – the third one so far. We are only human and we cannot lead SOLDIER on our own.”

Lazard paused, adjusting his glasses as he considered the implication behind the growing chaos in the world, and the man across from him. Eight years as the Director of SOLDIER and Lazard still knew barely a thing about the General of SOLDIER. Sephiroth hardly ever let that perfect mask of his slip, and the only time Lazard had ever seen him lose his composure was when they received the order to kill Angeal Hewley after his desertion from SOLDIER. Angeal and Genesis Rhapsodos were the closest thing Sephiroth had to friends, and it remained the only time Lazard had ever seen Sephiroth disobey orders.

“It sounds as though you have already made a decision.” Sephiroth commented, interrupting Lazard’s train of thought. Mild mannered and unflinchingly polite (if somewhat dense about social grace at times), it was near impossible to believe he had the power to destroy every person in this building without breaking a sweat. Sometimes, Lazard was amazed he hadn’t yet.

“I have a few in mind, but would greatly value your suggestions.”

“I have a choice in the matter?” Sephiroth asked. It was almost possible to miss the flicker of bitterness across the man’s face, but Lazard knew him at least well enough to know that even passing expressions spoke volumes about what Sephiroth was really thinking and feeling.

“Of course you do. They are  _your_  SOLDIERs. For that reason, you should be making this decision.” Lazard insisted.

“Fine, then promote Isaack Fair. He has been a First Class for five years and he is well loved by the lower ranks. He is an effective leader both on and off the field and his potential is wasted as my aide. His promotion is long overdue.”

Lazard nodded. He expected as much. “Consider it done, then. I will inform him as soon as he returns from his mission.”

Sephiroth cocked his head to the side, the action causing long strands of silver hair to fall over his face and shoulders. “I was not made aware of any missions for Zack this week.”

“It was an emergency mission. He and First Class Kunsel were sent out late last night with two infantry to assist the Turks on an investigation in Rocket Town. They reported an AVALANCHE-style bombing of the ATC there. The Turks are hoping the bombers are still in the area and that Zack and Kunsel will be able to flush them out.” Lazard explained.

“The previous two attacks were in Midgar. It seems odd that if AVALANCHE was planning to target the Western Continent they’d go after the ATC in Rocket Town rather than the much larger facilities in Corel or Costa del Sol.” Sephiroth mused. “It doesn’t follow the MO. Aside from the bombing matching the style used here in Midgar, there’s no other ties to AVALANCHE itself. The people of Rocket Town barely acknowledge ShinRa and there is no mako reactor there.”

“I can request a report from the Turks investigation, but until then it will be nearly impossible to determine if it was AVALANCHE and why they targeted that specific area.”

Sephiroth nodded. “Do that, please.”

 *~*~*

Zack Fair was the kind of man who prided himself on his easy going nature. He was quick to laugh and slow to anger, with an amicable openness that had served him well both as personal aide to the recalcitrant general of SOLDIER and as a leader and instructor to the lower class SOLDIERs and Cadets. That said, staring out over the dust and rubble of the northern square of Rocket Town, he felt the familiar frustration and anger that had followed the bombing of the Gongaga mako reactor two years ago. AVALANCHE was bound and determined to destroy ShinRa, and they weren’t afraid to take lives to make that a reality. It ran antithesis to Zack’s own personal philosophy that the pursuit of justice not come at the expense of innocent lives.

It seemed a miracle that no one had been reported dead or missing, no bodies had thus far been excavated, and no other damage done to the town. Indeed, the most dangerous part of the entire mission was Captain Highwind’s sharp sarcasm and scathing disapproval of their presence, despite the fact that it was Captain Highwind himself who reported the incident.

“Yo, glaring at the building isn’t going to make it come back or stop AVALANCHE.” A hand clasped down on Zack’s shoulder, startling him out of his thoughts. He turned to see Reno grinning at him. Zack was secretly glad the red-haired Turk had been sent on this mission. Reno could be a grade-A asshole, but he’d long proven himself someone Zack could trust with his life. “Whatcha thinking about anyway? You only play with your ring like that when something’s bugging you.”

With a start, Zack realized he’d been twisting the plain gold band on his left ring finger. Reno was right; this was a nervous habit he’d picked up only within the last year or so. He was surprised Reno even noticed it, let alone realized what it was. His last tell was too obvious – squats in the middle of a mission tended to make the SOLDIERs under his command anxious because everyone knew Zack did it to burn off excess energy when he was feeling out of his league. Never mind that he also did it when he was bored. So in the pursuit of a conscious effort to stop exercising in the middle of missions, he’d picked up a different habit.

“Just thinking. It’s amazing no one died last night.” Zack said gesturing to the ruin in front of them. “The stuff AVALANCHE does is pretty terrible, but then they go and do something like this and it’s almost enough to make a point that’s kind of reasonable.”

Reno cut in, “There are five Assets in Midgar who’d like to point out that AVALANCHE is anything but reasonable, yo. Or, they would if they weren’t in a morgue right now. Shit like this? Doesn’t accomplish anything but making you look like an ass. So they got lucky they didn’t kill anyone this time. What the fuck did they accomplish, yo? The Assets are in Corel now, not free. As an abolitionist group they fucking suck at abolishing.”

Zack was surprised by the vehemence in Reno’s voice. “You know, I kinda thought you’d be more of an AVALANCHE supporter considering…” He trailed off. Bringing up the Turk’s status as property never seemed to go smoothly for him, for all that Reno and Cissnei both acted like it wasn’t a big deal to them.

Reno cocked an eyebrow at him, smirking, “Just ‘cause I got a tag in my ear don’t mean they’re not morons. There are a lot of shitty things in my life, yo. Being an Asset’s not one of ‘em. And I don’t know a single Asset that doesn’t hate AVALANCHE as much as everyone else, yo.” He turned around and gestured for Zack to follow. “Now c’mon, Captain Fair. Our charitable host wants a word with us.”

Zack groaned. Captain Highwind was the last person he wanted to talk to right now.  Zack wasn’t sure he’d survive another battle of wits right now. The man was near the airship hanger, surrounded by a small group of dusty, exhausted townspeople. They’d been assisting the Turks and Zack and Kunsel with the investigation, albeit reluctantly. When Highwind shouted a loud dismissal, the people scattered, giving Zack and Reno a wide berth. Zack got the feeling they didn’t like SOLDIERs much. Well, not so much a feeling; it’d been pretty obvious since they arrived this morning. Now that dusk was fast approaching, they still hadn’t warmed to him or Kunsel. On the other hand, they  _loved_  Cissnei. The female Turk had gotten free lunch and lots of offers for snacks all day long while Zack was lucky if someone would meet his eyes.

Once it was just the three of them outside the hanger, Cid Highwind turned his attention towards them. “All right, listen up. It’s the end of the day and my crew needs rest. Since we don’t get enough visitors to justify an inn, you’re on your own for arrangements. After some talking with his master –“ Cid gestured to Reno.

“Handler.” Reno corrected under his breath. Cid ignored him.

“—Shera and me’ll put up the Turks for the night. You SOLDIER boys are shit outta luck though. Couldn’t convince anyone to offer up a room, but I’m feeling fuckin’ generous so you two can cozy up in the hanger.”

Zack frowned. “Seriously? This town’s half empty and nobody has a room?” He eyed the hanger, a large and intimidating building, but the walls didn’t have insulation and with the wind coming off the Nibel Mountains it was bound to get cold at night. Mako regulated body temperature, but SOLDIERs could still feel cold like anyone else. It wasn’t looking like it was going to be a comfortable night.

“I said ain’t no one wants you, not no one’s got room, shithead.” The blond haired town leader said, casual as if he wasn’t insulting a highly trained, highly lethal member of ShinRa’s elite fighting forces. But Zack was too easy going to do more than bristle in frustration. “If the fuckin’ Turkish Delights had left you boys back in Midgar, that’d be one thing, but folks around here don’t like SOLDIERs mucking up in our affairs. The sooner you assholes get outta here, the better. So, no, I’m not going to make anyone pony up a room for you.” With that, Cid Highwind turned on his heel and stalked off, leaving Zack slightly flabbergasted.

“You know, I think this is the first time since Wutai that I’ve been actively hated for being a SOLDIER.” Zack commented. He saw Kunsel coming up from another alley and waved him over, intending to explain just what happened. The other First Class was excellent at reading people; maybe he’d be able to help Zack figure out just what bit Captain Highwind on the ass.

Reno snorted. “Thought you’d be used to it by now, Zack. Not everyone thinks you’re a hero.” His PHS rang and Reno snapped it open, listening carefully. “Sure boss, be right there.” He snapped the phone shut and turned to Zack and Kunsel. “Looks like you boys won’t be sleeping in the barn tonight. Corel’s been attacked. Tseng’s waiting at the chopper.”

*~*~*

The covered supply truck bounced and jostled down a seldom used and poorly maintained branch of the ShinRa highway system, running quick with low lights to avoid detection. Marcus had heard on the radio that Corel was calling in a couple of Turks and SOLDIERs, not even two hours after the bomb went off. If they had any hope of making it out of this alive, they’d need to move quickly.

Tifa felt useless, sitting in the back of the truck with the silent, dirty men and women they’d come to Corel to save. She knew there was nothing she could do – unless a fight broke out or they ran into monsters. Driving was Caroline’s thing, while Niall played nurse, and the cyphers they left to Marcus. Tifa was brawn, which suited her just fine so long as she was actually  _doing_  something.

“We got trouble?” The man seated across from Tifa asked when she fidgeted with her gloves and cracked her knuckles for the fifth time in the last ten minutes. Tifa knew him… somewhat. She’d never met him before, but she was very well acquainted with his six-year-old daughter. He was the man she’d been sent to rescue. The leader of Midgar’s branch of AVALANCHE.

Two and a half years ago the Turks led a witch hunt through the slums, gathered up all the members of AVALANCHE they could find, and put them on a very public trial. For crimes against ShinRa they’d been given over as property and sent to the mines. AVALANCHE had always been about the safety and well-being of the planet, not the people on it, but when the Midgar City Council and ShinRa sentenced Barret Wallace to die in the mines, suddenly it became personal. There wasn’t much difference between bombing reactors and bombing ATCs, anyway.

Tifa shook her head. “Not if we get out of here quick. There’s a boat waiting to take us to the western continent. Once we’re out in the ocean it’ll be much harder for them to track us.”

“Damn. I’m jonesing for a fight. Something goes down, you can count me in.” Barret replied. He leaned back against the canvas cover over the truck and crossed his arms – well, arm and tarnished metal prosthetic. He was a big man, muscular and intimidating, the kind of person who’d make a good bodyguard, and if rumors were to be believed he was a damn good brawler and even better quick shot.

“Happy to have the support.” Tifa held out her hand for Barret to shake. “Tifany Lockhart, call me Tifa. I’ve been handling communications and running support.”

Barret took it firmly, not holding back on his powerful grip but not crushing, and introduced himself. “Nice to see a new face. How’d’ya end up in AVALANCHE?”

Tifa blushed and laughed in embarrassment. “I stumbled upon it, actually. Moved to Midgar about three years ago, just after I turned eighteen. I did a few odd jobs and then, after the trial, Seventh Heaven put up a help wanted sign. Worked there for almost a year before I figured out AVALANCHE was running out of the basement. There was a bombing in the sector eight slums that ShinRa pinned on AVALANCHE, so they were running frantic trying to do damage control and got a little careless.”

“You’re shittin’ me.” Barret grinned, easy confidence in the flash of white teeth. “I’m gonna give ‘em hell when we get back. Luck has it ya joined rather than called in ShinRa?”

Tifa nodded. “Yep. Promised to help me look for a friend, too, if I joined up. It took a while for Jesse and Wedge to figure out how to neutralize and remove those tracking chips, but now that they have we can really step up taking down ATCs and getting Assets out.” Sheepishly, she added, “Honestly, I’m more in it for the abolitionist side than the environmental side.”

“Still gotta live on the planet, whether you’re free or not.”

“I know. The more I learn about what ShinRa’s up to with those Mako Reactors, the more I see why the world needs AVALANCHE. But me, personally? I just want to rescue my friend. He’s the most important person in the world to me.”

Barret nodded. “We all got our reasons. I want my girl to have a planet she can raise children on. Someplace without ShinRa butting into her life every day, ya know? So how’d your friend end up crossin’ ShinRa’s bad side anyway?”

Tifa frowned. She hated trying to explain this. “He didn’t commit any crimes, if that’s what you’re asking. His mom died and he was sold to ShinRa by the mayor of our hometown.” The mayor her father, but Tifa didn’t even speak to him these days. He’d betrayed her so many times that even thinking about him made her chest ache. “He ran and the last I’d heard about him for two years he was gunned down by hunters. The mayor told me he was dead. Just before I left town, I found out he was still alive, but his trail was so cold I only had the name of the place he’d been taken – Rocket Town.”

She grinned, but it was a grim sort of expression, the kind that didn’t reach her eyes. “I was hoping to find him in Corel, actually. I heard that’s what happens to Runners, but I didn’t see anyone who looked like him.”

“What’s his name?” Barret asked. “Maybe I knew him.”

“Cloud.”

“Now that’s a name! Sorry, not someone I knew.”

Tifa nodded. “I expected that. That’s why I have this.” She reached under the seat and pulled out a file box filled with papers and folders. “We needed a distraction, something to get the ATC staff out of our way. So we bombed Rocket Town. Managed to get these out of the building before we brought it down. I’m hoping it’ll give me a clue… or closure.”

Barret regarded the young woman solemnly, “He’s not dead ‘til you got the death certificate.” He told her firmly. “And if ya’ll figured out how to get me out, then AVALANCHE will find a way to save your friend, too.”

She managed a small smile in regards to that statement, just as Caroline announced their arrival at the remote dock where their boat was moored. A quiet trip… that was quite anticlimactic. Tifa was both relieved and disappointed at the lack of excitement, but it was better to have nothing happen than to risk getting caught by ShinRa. She couldn’t save Cloud if she was an Asset.

Once everyone was loaded onto the boat and underway, Tifa found a quiet corner in between crates of supplies, and opened up the first of the dozens of files she’d taken from the archive at the Rocket Town Asset Training Center.

*~*~*

Two days later, Aerith Gainsborough was tending the flowers outside her house when Zack returned from his mission. Her bodyguard had told her he’d be back, but she didn’t quite expect him to return looking harried and stressed, eyes tight not with laughter, for once. In the seven years since he’d come crashing down right into the middle of her flower patch, Aerith had only seen him quite so agitated a small number of times. Angeal, Wutai, Gongaga…. Times when the mission body count was high, or when a friend died.

“Is Kunsel–?” She began, only to be cut off by Zack.

“He’s fine.”

Aerith nodded. She went back to her flowers, trusting that if Zack wanted to tell her, he would, and she would listen like she always did.

Zack leaned his sword up against the side of her house and plopped himself down in the dirt next to Aerith’s lilies, leaning back on his hands to stare up at her with a loud, aggravated sigh. “AVALANCHE bombed Rocket Town, then Corel the very next day. In Rocket Town, nobody was even injured, but in Corel they collapsed one of the mines and part of the ATC. At least fifteen Assets were reported missing. They believe they died in the mine, but haven’t found the bodies yet. It’ll take weeks before Corel’s even ready to resume normal operations, and who knows how long the Rocket Town ATC will take.”

Aerith frowned slightly and reached out to trim one of her lilies. White, for remembrance, and set it across Zack’s lap. “That’s not all, is it?” She asked. Two weeks ago, there was an explosion in sector five, so loud that even down in the slums it had woken her and her mother in the middle of the night. The news never reported what happened, but Aerith’s bodyguards were good sources of information, if she plied them with the right gifts. AVALANCHE had bombed the ATC and before that the one in sector one. She wondered if Zack knew about the other bombings; he’d never mentioned it to her, and she’d never gotten around to telling him about them. It wasn’t something that affected either of them in the end, anyway.

“That’s most of it.” Zack said. “Rocket Town hated us. The Turks were fine, the infantry were fine, but Kunsel and I? Man, we might have had a friendlier reception at a little girl’s birthday party after killing her kitten. I asked Kunsel to look into it, but it was weird. Town’s half empty because the space program got scrapped, so now it’s literally just the airship crew and a few miscellaneous engineers out there, but not one of them wanted to spare a room for us to spend the night. Any other town and the roughest reception we’d get would be complaints about how long it took us to get there and fix whatever monster problem the town was having.”

He rolled over on his knees and plucked the garden scissors from Aerith’s hand, setting them aside as he brushed his hand over her face, pushing brown bangs out of earth-green eyes before cupping her cheek in his hand. She was so bright and beautiful, so much so that every time Zack saw her his heart swelled and fluttered. Kissing her was like welcoming a Gongaga spring morning, warm and sweet. Aerith reciprocated, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and leaning in, looking for more. Zack had just enough time to grab hold of her waist before she tackled him. She grinned as she crawled over the top of him, the fabric of her pink sundress pressing against Zack’s legs, pinning him. Her auburn hair fell into her eyes and over his face.

“Enough about me,” Zack grabbed the end of Aerith’s braid and pressed it to his lips. “How’ve you been?”

“Oh, you know, in the last three days, I learned to play the tambourine and dance the tango. I’m so good at it that band of traveling troubadours wants me to join them, so I’ve decided I’m leaving you for the lead trumpet player.” Aerith teased.

“I believed you up until the trumpet player.” Zack teased back. He kissed her nose and she giggled. “So I take it you’ve had a quiet week.”

Aerith nodded. “I sold some flowers and made some more medicine for the people in the slums. The girl who sells hair ties in Wall Market? Her mom’s doing better now, thanks to the medicine you helped me make. Oh! And this morning I saw Reno.”

“Did you?” Reno and Aerith had a relationship dating back over ten years, having met before Reno ever became a member of the Turks. As it was with most things involving Aerith and the Turks, she’d turned cagey every time Zack asked about it, waving it off and saying she was uncomfortable talking about how they met, and that Reno should tell him. Reno, however, had a strict policy of silence regarding details about his life before the Turks, which included the story of how the redhead met Zack’s life partner. From what Zack had inferred, Reno was already an Asset when they met and he’d done something that saved her life. For that alone, Zack didn’t press either of them for details. It was obvious that, like Tseng, Cissnei, and Rude, Reno would do anything to protect Aerith. That was enough for Zack.

“Yep. Congratulations on your promotion, by the way. I guess something nice did happen while you were away.” She regarded him thoughtfully, green eyes distant as she frowned at him. “Were you going to tell me?” She asked. From anyone else, it might have sounded like an accusation, but from Aerith there was no judgment or anger, only curiosity.

“I wasn’t sure.” Zack replied honestly. “I know you wish I’d just retire and move down here with you, so I thought telling you I’d been promoted might not be the kind of news you’d want to hear. Still, Field Commander of SOLDIER– that’s pretty good.”

“I know, and I really am proud of you.” Aerith offered him a genuine smile. “I can’t make you give up your hopes and dreams, and I really don’t want to. All I want is to spend more time with you.”

Zack swept her hair back out of her face, and behind her ear. “I know, and I already asked Lazard for leave once this whole thing with AVALANCHE dies down a little. I’ve got it all planned out; you and I are going to go see the sky and soak up some sun in Kalm, just the two of us. Maybe get out from under your mom so we can uphold our marriage vows.” He bucked against her gently, and she laughed as the motion caused her to lose her balance, bracing on her forearms so their faces were inches apart. “Just you and me, the sun, and air that’s not Midgar smog.” He stole another kiss and wrapped his arm around her waist, sitting up so Aerith was seated in his lap instead of kneeling over him.

“Sounds wonderful.” Aerith whispered against his lips.

They pulled away from each other after a few more minutes, content smiles matching to each other. “So,” Zack said, getting back to their previous topic of conversation, “Since I doubt Reno came down here just to tell you I’d been promoted, what else have you two talk about?”

Aerith hummed thoughtfully, trying to remember the exact details. “Ah, yes. It’s important.” She grinned at him. “The Turks are thinking about giving you a gift to celebrate your promotion. Reno asked me not to tell you what it is, and he said they might not be able to give it to you. But if they do, I want you to accept it.”

Zack furrowed his brow and frowned, confused by the cryptic statement. “Is there a reason I wouldn’t want the gift?” He asked.

Aerith nodded. “Well, you might think about me and how I’ll react, but I don’t want you to worry about me.”

“Okay.” Zack said, still somewhat dubious. “So when am I getting this gift?”

“I don’t know. A few days maybe? Will you do me a favor and promise me you’ll say yes?”

“If it’s that important to you, then I will.” Zack promised easily. He wasn’t worried about such a promise causing trouble for him, because no matter what the gift was, he believed that Reno and Aerith wouldn’t intentionally make his life difficult. At least, he hoped they wouldn’t.

*~*~*

It was early in the afternoon by the time Cloud finally stirred from sleep. He rolled over into the depression left on the mattress from an occupant who’d long since come and gone. Cloud blinked and groaned as his cheek collided with a foil wrapped package on the pillow and sat up slowly, reluctantly hitting the lamp beside his bed. Well, at least he hadn’t imagined things last night – Reno really had returned in the wee hours of the morning, long after Cloud’s last client left and he’d passed out on the bed. The package was sweets from the Gold Saucer, confectionaries based on old western continent recipes, including Nibelheim fudge. After snitching a few pieces out of the box, Cloud tucked it in the space under his bed where he stored the rest of his contraband items – issues of  _Midgar Mechanics_  and bottles of painkillers, mostly – before slipping into a loose house coat and braving the beginning of another long day.

The ShinRa Tower Branch of the Department of Hospitality took up most of the 24th floor, a sprawling maze of rooms occupied and utilized by the thirteen courtesans currently stationed in the tower. Towards the elevator bay, the lobby and reception desk branched to the ten rooms used for taking clients, while the back housed the much smaller living quarters, the shared bathing and changing room, and the kitchen/common room. It wasn’t a terrible life, Cloud had to admit he actually liked where he lived and who he lived with, and sometimes he even liked his job too. Unfortunately, that was all Cloud liked.

This early in the day the common room was nearly empty with only two courtesans occupying it. The first was Edmund, a burly, toned courtesan Midgar born and raised who was the antithesis to Cloud’s delicate, feminine appeal. The second was Mariya, a Gongaga girl with dark skin and long black hair who’d joined the department just last year. She was seated on the couch in the corner, watching a daytime talk show with the sort of vacant expression that said she wasn’t quite awake yet. Edmund on the other hand was seated at the table devouring his first meal of the day, which looked to Cloud like some sort of meat stew and hearty bread from Kalm. His stomach growled, reminding Cloud that a single piece of fudge was not adequate nutrition.

The fridge, however, held only disappointment. The container labeled with Cloud’s name contained a salad, no dressing and no cheese, just plain boring lettuce and some tomatoes. “Would it kill them to throw some steak on top every once in a while?” He asked facetiously, pulling the food out and digging into the bland meal. “My kingdom for fried chocobo wings.”

Across the table, Edmund chuckled. “You’re lucky to get any food the way I hear it. Apparently your dietician isn’t happy with your weight.”

“My dietician can rot in a hole.” Cloud declared. “And if I pull my shirt up you can see my ribs, I think I’m plenty skinny thanks.” It was an old argument. Everything about Cloud’s appearance was manufactured by a careful diet and exercise routine; a diet that consisted of salads and an exercise routine made up of stretches called Yoga originating from Cosmo Canyon.

Mariya twisted in her seat, having finally woken up when she heard Cloud enter. “The new  _Midgar Girl_  magazine arrived this morning.” She told the men. “There’s an article about Cloud in there.”

Edmund perked up. “Oh really, another one? I’d be a rich man if I had a gil piece for every article written about the Golden Rose. Well, come on Mariya, what’s the juiciest part.”

Cloud abandoned his salad to pick up the magazine from the end table, flipping through it until he came across the article in question. An interview he’d given as part of his contract two weeks ago. The article title, atrocious as was par for  _Midgar Girl_ , read ‘A Rose with Thorns; Midgar’s Most Popular Courtesan Opens up about Life as a Runner.’ His eyes narrowed at it. “I’m pretty sure I didn’t say a thing about being a Runner.” Cloud groused.

Despite his life and the way he lived with his fate completely in someone else’s hands, Cloud was a quiet, private person. Being a Runner was always speculated about, especially by magazines, but Cloud never said anything aside from a few private gripes to Reno about how hard it was to move in Runner’s Chains.

“Ah, you know  _Midgar Girl_.” Edmund said, “Headlines always lie with them.”

Several other courtesans tumbled through the door just then, and in the ensuing chaos the magazine got passed around several times as Cloud endured the light hearted teasing from the others. He finished his salad and joined Mariya on the couch, curling up with his legs tucked under him as the talk show changed to their joint favorite soap opera.  _Midgar Nights_  was a show about a high ranking ShinRa employee and his sprawling family of socialites. The latest arc had introduced Iris, a ShinRa courtesan thinly veiled as Rose right down to his blond hair and Runner’s Chains. Needless to say the show had mutated from a way to pass time to a communal activity every afternoon. Not that Cloud minded – he could always retreat back to his room if it became too overwhelming.

They were halfway through the episode – The eldest son had finally admitted his love for Iris to his stern matriarch of a mother – when Hospitality’s secretary, a middle aged woman with a warm faced named Tomiko Kaito, poked her head in.

“Rose,” She said, gesturing to Cloud, “Your client for this evening’s event’s been changed. It seems the Vice President changed his mind and has decided to go to the gala.”

Cloud scowled at the news. Just his luck Rufus would change his mind at the last minute. And Cloud had so been looking forward to a night of bland conversations and blander smiles followed by bland sex. Ah, well, Rufus knew how to make things more interesting… in a one note sort of way. It was a gift that must have been a part of his asshole personality. “Thank you, Tomiko. I’ll be sure to prepare for him appropriately.”

He settled back into his seat, with Mimi on one side and Shane on the other, and went back to making fun of  _Midgar Nights_  with them, as if nothing unusual at all had occurred. Of course, that was the truth, or so Cloud thought.

 

*~*~*

Lazard knocked on the door to Sephiroth’s office and pushed it open. ShinRa’s most famous general was seated behind his desk, tapping away at his keyboard as he diligently filed reports and reviewed requisition requests.

“Director Lazard, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Sephiroth asked without looking up from his work.

“I have the report you requested. Tseng was unusually compliant about the recent mission to Rocket Town. Turns out, he has a request for you.”

Sephiroth glanced up, one elegant eyebrow raised questioningly. He took the report Lazard offered but didn’t open it. “A request from the Turks. This is somewhat unusual of them.”

Lazard nodded, “The attacks on Corel and Rocket Town are not the only ways in which AVALANCHE is inconveniencing our dear company. Assets are going missing from ShinRa and the Turks suspect it’s an inside job. Needless to say only department heads are privy to this information.”

“Spies in the company? That is unusual.” Sephiroth replied dryly, his tone of voice suggesting just the opposite. It was a rare show for Lazard to see the sarcastic, slightly bitter side of the man. Like Lazard, Sephiroth was not under the spell of ShinRa as a perfect company doing perfect good; he too saw the corruption, the arrogance, and the fragile tower of secrets and lies upon which ShinRa was built and operated. AVALANCHE had a point, even if their extremism made them just as guilty as ShinRa on most counts. Still, it stood to reason others in the company, disillusioned as well, might have thought AVALANCHE was the only option, and joined up with them. Unsurprising really.

“Regardless, the president would like this matter resolved as quickly as possible and has given the Turks unprecedented leeway with regards to that end. That said, they’ve come up with a rather… novel… plan.” Lazard explained.

Knowing that Lazard had a point to make at the end of this diatribe, Sephiroth sat silently and waited for the other metaphorical shoe to drop.

“They’re using Assets to ferret out rumors in each department. Assets known to be loyal enough to the company or with something to hold out over their heads as a bribe. The SOLDIER department will have two. One to handle the SOLDIERs themselves and another to keep watch on the other Assets assigned to the department.”

“So if I’m to watch SOLDIERs, then who else has been assigned by the Turks?” Though he bore no earring, ShinRa had created him and that made Sephiroth an Asset.

“Why, none other than the Golden Rose.”

*~*~*

Tifa woke up to the smell of eggs and bacon frying in the small kitchen behind the bar. She climbed down from the attic room where several women in AVALANCHE sometimes hunkered down at night to find Barret Wallace making pancakes for a delighted Marlene.

“Good Mornin’ Tifa.” Barret greeted, voice booming deep. “Just in time. Coffee’s hot and I got another pound of chocobo bacon frying on the stove. Soon as the rest them lazy asses get out of bed we’ll have ourselves a feast.”

Tifa gave the man a significant look, motioning discretely to the six year old seated on the counter watching her father work, but it was a lost cause. AVALANCHE hooted and hollered, cussed and drank like a bunch of undisciplined sailors. Tifa was fairly sure Marlene’s first word was “damn.”

“Have you checked the news to see what ShinRa’s saying about our latest exploits?” She asked instead as she poured herself a cup of coffee and reached for the newspaper discarded on the counter.

“Yeah. Nothin’ in there but some scandal involvin’ one of those pretty whores ShinRa keeps. One gets beaten bloody and the whole city’s gotta speculate about it.”

Tifa wrinkled her nose in disgust as she examined the somewhat blurry photo that graced the front page. The girl was being escorted by two men in dark blue suits, her dress torn and her hair mussed as long scratches adorned her shoulders and a bruise blackened her cheek. Golden Rose, it said, and Tifa had heard of her once or twice. Everyone had an opinion about her, like if she was actually a woman or just an insanely beautiful man. Man or woman, she felt a twinge of sympathy for the poor dear. Nobody deserved that, no matter how much the paper speculated about what she did to deserve it.

“Right well. ShinRa can’t censor the news so they bribe them instead. My bet is all this was planned out.” Tifa said in between sips of coffee.

“Suspicious aren’t ya?” Barret replied. “Listen, less buzz we generate the better. Don’t need no ShinRa thugs down under the plate investigatin’.”

Tifa shrugged, but the man had a point. The moment they realized that the Corel Assets weren’t dead they were going to swarm the slums looking for them. Best to get them spread out and undercover as fast as possible while keeping the rest of their operation discreet enough to avoid any suspicion.

“So,” Barret said, “You make any progress on those files of yours?”

“Not yet. Got a plan to sit down this evening and start really going through them.” She’d flipped through briefly, only enough to pick up that Cloud had been in Rocket Town for at least six months and that he was transferred somewhere in Midgar. If he was still here. Still it was one more lead she needed to find him again.

*~*~*

Cloud woke up when Reno left, carrying with him an answer of yes. Cloud would accept a transfer to SOLDIER to serve as their little spy in that department in exchange for freedom from the Runner’s chain. The next time he woke up it was well past noon and someone had flipped his light switch on before dog piling him in his own bed.

It was Amber and Mariya, two of Hospitality’s courtesans. “Cloud,” Amber began, sounding worried as she rolled off of him and inspected his face for any remaining cuts or bruises, “We heard on the news. What happened to you last night?”

Cloud groaned and rolled over, only for Mariya to yank his comforter off the bed, leaving Cloud shivering in his bare skin. Unconcerned with his nudity, he rolled over and grabbed the comforter away from the dark haired woman. Still, he sat up and wrapped the blue blanket around his shoulders, reluctantly acknowledging his concerned housemates.

“Well at least someone thought to heal you.” Mariya said, far calmer than the near hysterical Amber. Amber was the baby of Hospitality and still somewhat starry-eyed about the glamorous life here. Mariya, just a year older than Cloud, was more practical and grounded, even if Cloud could tell she was somewhat shaken. “There’s no bruises left, but you look awful in those pictures. What happened?”

Cloud shrugged. He’d never told a soul about how sadistic Rufus Shinra really was but now he supposed that secret would be out as well. “The Vice President got a little rough with me. I’m fine. The Turks who escorted me back to the tower healed me. See?” He opened the blanket, “Still no marks. Pretty as I was yesterday.”

Mariya did not at all look convinced, even as Amber dramatically draped her arms over Cloud’s shoulders. “Oh thank the Planet.” The younger one exhaled, “You’re fine. I was so scared this morning.”

Over Amber’s shoulder, Cloud rolled his eyes at Mariya who shrugged. “Ms. Kaito’s looking for you so you should probably get dressed soon.”

Cloud waited for the other courtesans to leave before he stood up. He took the time to put on underwear, carefully lacing them up at his hips so they’d stay in place. He had a sneaking suspicion the Turks were going to move quickly on this transfer and wanted to be ready for whenever it happened. Next came an ankle length dark blue skirt, accordion pleated so it fell full around his ankles and over his gold chain. That was followed by a peasant blouse, the boat neck hanging low around his collarbone and off his shoulders. The looseness helped with the feminine illusion.  He kept his jewelry and makeup simple, just enough to make himself look effortlessly flawless. Which, admittedly, was not difficult; he was blessed with a fair, even mountain complexion.

Lastly Cloud tamed his unruly hair into a less messy tussle of waist length curls. He slipped on a pair of wedge heels and slipped out of his room, mentally preparing himself for the ambush of questions from the other courtesans.

*~*~*

Zack had the dubious honor of moving offices. It seemed like a waste of time to him, but ShinRa’s bureaucratic nightmare had reared its ugly head. You see, the office to the left of Sephiroth’s was for Sephiroth’s aide, which Zack had been for years. The office on the right, however, was for the first commander, which was what Zack had been promoted to. It wasn’t terrible, moving two offices down, but it still meant he couldn’t go out on missions while he was busy changing offices. It was tedious work and Sephiroth, as if he was allergic to the very idea, was nowhere to be found. Zack suspected he was out on a mission.

So Zack was pleasantly surprised when he saw Reno coming down the hall. What was even more surprising though was the young woman walking with him. She was breathtaking, dressed in a blue sundress that looked like one of Aerith’s (only of obviously higher quality) with her golden hair styled out of her face and falling in soft curls to her waist. Reno just grinned at him when he noticed Zack staring. “Shut your mouth Fair, you’ll swallow a bug.”

The woman laughed, low and husky, but her voice trembled a bit – not enough for Reno to notice, but enough for Zack’s SOLDIER hearing to pick up.

“Ah shut it Reno.” Zack replied with a grin and a friendly punch to Reno’s shoulder, careful of his strength so he didn’t hurt the Turk Asset. Then his more flirtatious nature came out and he offered his hand to the woman. “Hey there, what’s a pretty girl like you doing with a brute like Reno?”

She took it gently with a soft smile but didn’t reply.

“Let me introduce you two.” Reno chimed in then. “Rose, this is Commander Isaack Fair. Zack, this is the Golden Rose. You might have heard of each other.”

Zack wracked his brain trying to place the name. He knew Rose was a courtesan, based on her name alone, but that was about as much about the courtesans he knew. I mean, there was vague stuff. Aerith had a subscription to  _Midgar Girl_  and he’d read a few articles about ShinRa’s courtesans there. “Sorry, I’m afraid I don’t keep up with the latest gossip.”

“That’s all right.” The woman said, voice almost too soft even in the quiet corridor. “It’s nice to go somewhere without everyone screaming my name and trying to get my autograph.”

“So that really happens huh?” Zack asked. “You must be pretty popular.” And then Zack thought that was a stupid thing to say because Rose was _gorgeous_  and even if she wasn’t a courtesan she’d probably have a bunch of fans. Ah, Planet, Zack had his own fan club and he wasn’t even all that good looking in his opinion, but there were always SOLDIER groupies passing gossip back and forth.

“Relatively.” Rose replied. “I’ve heard SOLDIERs have their own fan clubs. I’m sure I’m no more popular than a handsome man like yourself.”

Zack grinned at the flattery. “So what brings a pretty lady like yourself up to the SOLDIER floor? Especially in the company of a lout like Reno?”

“Hey!” Reno protested, as Rose covered her mouth to hide her laughter. “We’re here on official company business. Rose here is a gift from the president to celebrate your promotion to commander.”

“What?”

“You heard me. You get ‘em on a private contract yo. Six months with only a couple contractual obligations. Like photoshoots and interviews. No big deal. Other than that, Rose is all yours.”

Zack was struck speechless by that proclamation. Right, courtesans did go on contracts exclusively to one person every so often, usually when their popularity was waning and it was more financially feasible to loan them out long term than on a night to night basis. Still there was just one tiny little problem. “I’m married.” He blurted, just loud enough for Rose and Reno to hear. He didn’t need the whole floor knowing about Aerith.

“I know, yo.” Reno grinned. “And your wife knows too. What’d'ya think I was talking to her about the other day, besides the big promotion?”

So Aerith did know. At least he hoped like hell she knew everything and wasn’t just blindly going along with whatever Reno said. She had a tendency to do that sometimes. ‘Uh, honey, I’ve got a courtesan on the side. Hope you’re not angry’ was a conversation he didn’t want to have any time soon.

“Besides,” Reno added, “Rose here is good at cleaning and cooking too. Last time I checked, you needed a little help with that, yo. If you want you can think of Rose as a live in housemaid.”

“That seems a little beneath you.” Zack said to Rose, intending it as a compliment.

Rose merely smiled back, that same vague soft one she’d been wearing for most of the conversation. “I don’t mind.” She replied. “On my last contract I was assigned to a woman who was injured and needed help around her house, so I was sort of a housekeeper then, too.”

Reno clapped his hands. “Well, that settles it yo. I’ll just leave Rose here with you… You can call the Department of Hospitality or us if you’ve got a question. Otherwise have fun!” Then he darted off back down the hallway.

Rose turned after him and with a whisper so soft only Zack’s hearing could pick it up said, “Why did you do that?”

Zack laughed. “Don’t mind Reno, he’s always darting in and out like that. So…” He struggled for what to say next. “Um, I’m moving offices right now so I guess you can take a seat in one until I finish up, then I’ll take you to my place.”

This wasn’t normally how he got girls to come back to his apartment with him, but nothing about this situation struck him as normal. But Rose just nodded and took a seat in his new office, pulling the chair out of the way so Zack didn’t have to step around her to place things. After a few trips the silence started getting to Zack and he asked, “So… Is Rose your real name?”

“No.” The courtesan answered simply.

“Can I ask what your real name is?”

“You can.”

Zack huffed. “Are you going to tell me?”

“Maybe.”

Rose was not a conversationalist, apparently. Still, Zack wasn’t deterred. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-one.” Rose answered. Her tone never changed from soft spoken and polite, betraying no hint of any emotion, let alone annoyance at being asked questions, so Zack kept at it.

“Where are you from?”

“Nibelheim.”

“Nibelheim huh? That’s pretty far out there, up in the mountains. Got a mako reactor?”

“And nothing else out there.” Rose finished the other half of the joke. So she did know that one at least. Gongaga was the same way – jungle, touch me frogs, palm fronds, and a mako reactor. Nothing else out there.

“So how’d you end up here in Midgar?” Zack asked as he set the last of his boxes down on his desk. There, just one more trip to make sure he’d gotten everything and he was officially done for the day. Time to go home and get some food, and see just where the heck he was going to put a courtesan in his small, messy apartment.

“I was sold by the mayor of my hometown when I was a kid. Rocket Town ATC sent me here.” Rose answered.

Zack winced. Maybe he shouldn’t have asked, but Rose didn’t seem bothered by the question, speaking the answer matter of fact. “I’m sorry. That sucks.” Rocket Town though… Zack wondered if she knew what happened to her home ATC, so he asked.

“I hadn’t heard.” Rose answered, and if she felt any grief for the place it didn’t show. “Are the townspeople all right?”

Strange, or perhaps not, to be concerned about the townspeople. “No one was injured or killed in the blast, not even the Assets stationed there.”

Rose nodded. “Good.”

The trip back to Zack’s apartment was as quiet as it was short, since Zack lived on the same floor as most of the other seconds and firsts, in an apartment just across the hall from Sephiroth. Like all the other apartments on the floor, it wasn’t very big, consisting mainly of an open common area and kitchen, which Zack had filled with  _stuff_  he collected over the years, two bedrooms – one of which Zack used as an in-home gym – and one hallway bathroom. There was so much stuff in the main room – magazines, video games, DVDs. It was almost impossible to walk through the room without knocking over a stack of something or other. Not to mention the unfolded clean laundry on the couch. Zack lived like a bachelor, in a mess as he always had.

“Sorry about the disaster.” Zack said, gathering up the clothes on the couch so Rose could sit. “I would have cleaned had I any idea I’d be having company today.”

“That’s all right,” Rose said blithely, “that’s what I’m here for.” She took an armload of clothing and followed after Zack, frowning when she saw they were being dumped onto Zack’s bed. “Let’s fold these.” She suggested. “That way they’re out of your way.”

“Sure.” Zack agreed still embarrassed that a complete stranger was here in his messy space and had even agreed to help clean it. Rose folded the clothes quietly but orderly. “You do this a lot?” He asked.

“Not really.” Rose replied. “I hang all my clothes. None of them would survive being folded like this.” She held up a t-shirt as an example. “Some of the other courtesans have more casual clothes and I help them sometimes with laundry.”

“Oh. Well… you’re really good at it.” Zack was practically stuttering, but Rose just smiled at him.

“You’re really nice.” She said. “SOLDIERs are usually kind of jerks, but I like you.”

“Ah, thanks?” Zack scratched the back of his head. “I guess some of the lower ranks are probably dogs when it comes to a pretty lady like yourself. We try to beat manners into them but sometimes men will be boys.”

They went back to folding in silence. “Cloud.” Rose said after a few minutes, when most of the laundry was done.

“Huh? Where?” Zack asked, wondering if there was some freak weather system in his apartment. He wouldn’t be surprised. He spun in a circle looking for it.

  
Rose laughed, light and husky, more a chuckle than a true laugh. “My name. You asked for it a while ago. It’s Cloud.”

“Cloud, like the clouds outside?”

Rose – Cloud – nodded. “Yes, exactly like that. My mom was a little strange when she named me.”

“Hah! You’re telling me. My name’s Isaack. He laughs in old Gongagan. At least Cloud suits a pretty lady like yourself.”

Cloud sighed. “I’m not.”

“Not pretty? You’re kidding me you’re gorgeous! Breathtakingly beautiful.”

  
Cloud was blushing now. “Thank you. But I’m not a lady.”

Now Zack was confused. “Then… what are you?” He was drawing a blank. Did she not like the title lady?

Cloud laughed again, this time lower, but still beautifully husky. “I’m a man.” She – he—admitted. “I dress and act like a woman because its ShinRa’s little prank on the world. Only my clients know and they’re sworn to secrecy. Even if they tell they get passed off as gossip that may or may not be accurate.”

Now that Zack was looking he could almost tell. Too flat chested even with the loose bodice of the dress intended to fake curves that weren’t fully there. There were some. Cloud actually had a body almost as curvy as Aerith. No Adam’s apple either. That would have been an obvious give away but Cloud didn’t have one. Almost tell, but couldn’t quite. “Wow, you are damn good at crossing as a woman.”

“Thank you. I try.” Cloud smiled, small and shy almost, not broad like the earlier ones, but this one actually met his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not the first fanfic author to name Zack, Isaack. However, the author who did was active in fandom almost ten years ago and I no longer remember her name. If anyone does, please let me know. I just happened to love the meaningful name aspect of the name (it really does mean "He laughs" which suits Zack perfectly). Likewise, Zack's name is always getting lengthened out and I remember reading somewhere once that in the earliest stages of FF7, Tifa's name was Tiffany. Don't know if that's true or just one of those fandom legends, but I liked the idea of Tifa being short for Tifany. 
> 
> As always, check me out at my writing tumblr for early updates or at my personal tumblr for life as a superdork where I'm still riding the FF7 remake hype train, as well as saving up for a PS4.


	3. The General and the Rose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cloud, meet Sephiroth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that only took me five months. For those of you reading "Worth Fighting For" it updated again a few days ago but for whatever reason didn't get bumped up to the top of the page, so I doubt many people saw it. 
> 
> This chapter took me a long while because I was debating between rewriting the whole thing but in the end just kind of left it be. Once I got past the first scene the rest went pretty quickly until I got to the end, and then that took me a month to do. No guarantees that the next chapter will be coming sooner, what with my defense coming up and all but the good news is hiatus is only until May. :D
> 
> Trigger warning for internalized victim blaming in this chapter. I tried to make it clear that Cloud's personal feelings on the topic and not the author's. Obviously, there is nothing in the world you could possibly do to deserve to be hurt or disrespected in life. This PSA brought to you by me.

Cloud slept fitfully that first night. In an unfamiliar place surrounded by unfamiliar things even Commander Fair’s surprisingly comfortable couch couldn’t lull him. He still couldn’t think of the man as Zack the way Reno did, but he didn’t dislike the Commander either. There was something so friendly and genuine about him that it was almost impossible to remember that Cloud didn’t _like_ SOLDIERs. With their creepy glowing eyes and horrible, terrible violence… but Commander Fair wasn’t creepy at all. He could see why the Turk Asset had called him different from other SOLDIERs.

It wasn’t necessarily thoughts of the Commander that kept Cloud awake but rather a plethora of reasons. It was too early when they went to bed – Fair had set the couch up at barely past ten pm, around the time Cloud was usually taking clients unless he was out with a client. Then the place had been too silent, with none of the usual hustle and bustle of Hospitality and Cloud had tossed and turned under the blankets on the couch, staring every once in a while at the kitchen clock until finally, a quarter past four, he abandoned sleep and sat up. Maybe a walk would help him sleep.

Dressed simply in a floor length robe with his hair braided over his shoulder, Cloud knew he’d look out of place but he hoped this early in the morning no one would be awake. Commander Fair left his keycard on the kitchen counter so Cloud took it with him, tucking it into the pocket of his robe. He didn’t bother with shoes, choosing instead to let the links of his chain clink quietly against the carpeted floor.

The SOLDIER floor was deserted at this hour, as Cloud had anticipated. He followed his memory from yesterday and walked towards the elevator. Fair’s keycard wouldn’t have access to the Turk floors, not that Reno would even be around for Cloud to visit. The Asset lived with Tseng and Cissnei in an apartment in Sector Four. Nor would the card have access to Hospitality where Cloud could wake up Mariya and talk to her for a while. Maybe sex would clear his head. Fair had shown no interest from the beginning of ever wanting sex from Cloud, which Cloud was mostly fine with, so long as he and Reno could at least arrange a few meet-ups, or Cloud could figure out a way to meet with the other courtesans. He’d go crazy if this mission of his included forced celibacy. He appreciated, at the very least, that Commander Fair was so dedicated to his wife. It was sweet, really.

Cloud took the elevator to the SOLDIER offices, hoping to do some exploring of that space while it was quiet. At the very least he wanted to find Fair’s office in the maze of them so if he needed to come here during the day he didn’t have to try to find his way while avoiding SOLDIERs. He’d already know it. The hallways lit up as Cloud walked them, passing a few large rooms separated into cubicle spaces and a few small conference rooms.

He thought he found the right hallway eventually, noting the long row of single offices on one side with windows that overlooked the city below. He had to be at the edge of the floor. Cloud paused when he noticed a light on in one of the offices. Someone was awake and on the floor already. Cloud glanced at the clock. A quarter past five. He really didn’t want to run into other SOLDIERs but it made sense that it’d be about time for those heading out on early missions to be getting up and checking in. Cloud turned on his heel, intending to head back the way he came.

“What are you doing here?” A voice, hard and deep, caused Cloud to pause. Crap, he’d been spotted. He spun slowly on his heel, preparing himself mentally to come face to face with another SOLDIER only to pause in surprise. The man poking his head out of his office was easily one of the tallest people Cloud had ever met with silver hair as long as Cloud’s. Cloud would have recognized General Sephiroth anywhere. “I was told you didn’t like SOLDIERs.”

Puzzled how General Sephiroth would even know who he was let alone that detail about Cloud’s life, Cloud nonetheless smoothed down his fear and put on his most charming smile and a light Nibelheim accent – the one that sounded exotic but not too hick-ish. “I couldn’t sleep.” He answered. “I thought I’d take a walk and familiarize myself with this place. Sorry to bother you!” When in doubt, sound as bright and accommodating as possible. That or flirt. Cloud wasn’t sure how he felt flirting with _General Sephiroth_ but if push came to shove being a courtesan had its uses. Maybe he could get directions back to the elevator.

“You haven’t bothered me.” Sephiroth said. There was a strange inflection in the way he said bothered, as if admonishing Cloud for even thinking that. “Does Isaack know where you are?”

Isaack? Right, Commander Fair. Everybody else just called him Zack. Everybody but Cloud and now, apparently, General Sephiroth. “Uh, no. He’s still sleeping.” Cloud twisted his fingers anxiously, eager to be done and over with this conversation.

Sephiroth nodded. “It is unsafe for you to be without him.” He stepped out of his office and Cloud saw that he had his sword draped over the back of his long black coat. Masamune was almost as long as Sephiroth was tall. “Come. I will escort you back to his apartment.”

“There’s really no need!” Cloud protested, shaking his hands at the General. “If you give me instructions back to the elevator I’ll head back downstairs now.”

Sephiroth merely ignored him, gesturing for Cloud to follow behind as he took off down one of the halls Cloud hadn’t yet explored. Cloud followed demurely after, recognizing a losing battle when he saw one. He just hoped the general wouldn’t insist on waking the commander and telling Cloud’s new master where Cloud had been. If Reno was trustworthy (which, regardless, Cloud trusted him) then Fair wasn’t the type to punish and would probably brush this off, but Cloud would rather avoid any interaction all together.

It was difficult to keep up with the general, who had long legs and took long strides. Cloud moved as quickly as possible, not wanting to get lost again but even with five years of practice with the Runner’s Chain still found himself falling behind. Not wanting to make a scene, Cloud kept quiet, even when Sephiroth turned a corner and disappeared from view. Cloud paused in the hallways, taking a look around. He was completely disoriented.

Growing up in Nibelheim Cloud had learned plenty about safety in the woods and mountains. First, if he was ever lost he had to remain still and wait for someone to find him. So that was what he did, choosing to wait for Sephiroth to return. He didn’t have to wait long.

“You fell behind.” The silver haired general stated simply when he returned and found Cloud waiting.

Cloud shook his ankle, the bells around his shackle chiming quietly, muffled beneath his robe so he pulled it up, exposing the long chain. “It’s hard to walk fast in this.” He commented simply.

“Ah. My apologies.” That was Sephiroth’s only reply before he turned and, walking slower this time, headed back towards the elevator. Once there, with no more mishaps this time, he turned and asked, “Does it encumber you significantly?”

“Not significantly.” Cloud admitted. “I can’t run, hence why it’s called a Runner’s Chain, and I can’t stand with my feet apart. I used to trip over the chain all the time but not really anymore.” He was babbling. Again. He did that when he got nervous, and being next to General Sephiroth was enough to make anyone nervous, even well trained courtesans. “You get used to it.” He finished lamely.

Sephiroth merely nodded but didn’t comment as they got on the elevator heading back to the SOLDIER apartments. Cloud waited in the silence for a moment before venturing a question that had a been bugging him for several minutes now. “What were you doing in your office so early?”

“Working.” Sephiroth answered. Well, of course he was. Cloud didn’t expect him to be in there folding origami.

“So early though?” Cloud prompted.

“So late, actually.” Sephiroth answered. “I haven’t gone to bed yet.”

Cloud was beginning to feel the effects of his walk. His eyes were drooping and everything was beginning to take on the hazy, floating feeling of the sleepy. He was impressed that Sephiroth looked fresh as if he’d slept the whole night through,

“That can’t be healthy.” Cloud said behind a sudden yawn. “Even for a SOLDIER you still need sleep don’t you? Or does mako make you not tired anymore.”

“I am simply unable to sleep most nights.” Sephiroth volunteered. He stepped off the elevator and Cloud followed. At least the SOLDIER apartments were straight forward, a long row down the middle with only a few hallways.

They arrived at Fair’s apartment and to Cloud’s dismay Sephiroth knocked on the door. It flew open only moments later – Fair must have already been awake – and the man himself appeared in the doorway, a look of concern obvious on his face. “Seph!” He greeted warmly, “Have you seen Rose by any chance. I woke up this morning and he was gone.”

Sephiroth stepped aside, leaving Cloud chagrined to take the full brunt of Fair’s gaze. “I found him lost on the SOLDIER floor.” Sephiroth explained. “He claimed to be taking a walk.”

“Taking a walk? You scared me Cloud. It’s a good thing Sephiroth found you. Him and Kunsel and Lazard, they’ll watch out for you but any of the other SOLDIERs I wouldn’t trust further than I could throw them. I was so freakin’ worried about you, curls. Get in here before I have a heart attack. Sheesh Aerith would kill me; you’re, like, her favorite apparently.”

“Your wife is a fan of courtesans?” Sephiroth asked, even as Cloud slid in behind Fair, mentally protesting the nickname. His hair wasn’t actually naturally curly, but it hadn’t been washed since he’d curled it yesterday and the tiny ringlets sprung free from his braid.

“Apparently. I just found this out texting her last night.” Fair replied. He and Sephiroth made small talk at the door for a while longer while Cloud took a seat on the couch, ready to finally, hopefully, get some sleep. No such luck. Once Fair shut the door he came over and plopped down on the couch, at the foot of Cloud’s makeshift bed. “I guess it’d suck to be cooped up in here all day but promise me you won’t go wandering around without an escort again. You’re lucky Seph found you and brought you back here.”

Cloud was reluctant to make that promise. He didn’t do well in confinement, but he was supposed to obey his master and while he hadn’t quite worked out his plan for completing this mission he was sure that agreeing to only venture out escorted would put a damper on things. He needed to be able to talk openly with the assets that worked on the residential floors. “What if I promise not to leave the residential floor?” He ventured, even though that was technically arguing and arguing was bad. Fair could punish him for backtalk, but he probably wouldn’t.

“All right. Not past the elevators unless you have someone like me or maybe a Turk with you. I don’t really trust Turks any more than I trust my SOLDIERs with you but you and Reno seemed to get along, right?”

“Reno and I get along.” Cloud answered. He didn’t bother to add how well in that sentence. Fair didn’t need to know Cloud was sleeping with the man. It was none of Fair’s business even if it technically was his business. Sheesh. Tseng hadn’t been lying when he said this mission would be an unusual contract assignment. Fair was absolutely nothing like Cloud’s first mistress had been like, and even that contract was weird. Maybe Cloud was just a weird magnet. “The Turks used to escort me all the time. I was often sent to accompany the Vice President.”

“I see.” Fair nodded, then he slapped Cloud’s thigh, causing the younger man to flinch at the unexpected contact. Not that Fair noticed. “You hungry?” He asked.

Cloud didn’t reply. No, he was tired. He just wanted to take a nap and forget this whole conversation even happened.

Fair came back a few moments later carrying a bowl of cereal. “Help yourself if you want some.” He said, before plopping back on the couch and turning on the television. It was playing the morning news, something Cloud usually didn’t get to see because he was normally asleep at this time, among other reasons.

“ _Reports from Corel blame the collapse of the mine and the rumored fifteen deaths of Assets there on a structural failure but claim that otherwise the mines are safe for operation. As a precaution, the Kalm Materia Mine has been shut down pending a safety review. Still, many sympathizers in Midgar claim that ShinRa is not doing enough to protect its own Assets, citing the recent scandal involving Vice President Rufus Shinra and the courtesan the Golden Rose as an example of ShinRa’s careless abuse of those under its power.”_ The reporter on the television stated before the screen switched to commercials.

“That’s odd.” Cloud said before he could think better of himself. “I’d thought the public blamed me for what happened that night.” Two nights ago now. It felt like longer.

Fair hummed in confusion around a mouthful of Chocob-Os. “What happened?” He asked, his voice slightly garbled by the cereal. “I think I missed it while I was out of town.”

Cloud waved him off. He hadn’t intended to mention anything and didn’t particularly want to delve into that story right now. How did he explain it anyway? Oh, Rufus Shinra’s a sadist, was just a little too blunt. Besides, Cloud was the one who egged him on every time. _Hurt me if you can_ , he’d practically screamed at the older man. In some ways, in Cloud’s opinion, he did bring it on himself.

“It’s nothing.” Cloud said, “Just the news being gossipy and nosing about in my life again.”

“Doesn’t sound like nothing.” Fair said, but he let the subject drop.

*~*~*

Tifa woke up late in the morning after bartending until the early hours of the morning. Her customers, the regulars who were all hard working men and women rough around the edges and rougher still around their language, had missed her while she was gone. The other girl just didn’t have her charisma and tolerance for badly executed flirting. Tifa had smiled and graciously bought a round of the cheap stuff as an “apology” for being gone. They hadn’t minded the lack of quality to the booze – everyone drank cheap anyway. Hardly anyone but the occasional mid-level executive looking to slum it bought from her top shelf collection.

So because of the jovial atmosphere that continued long into the night, Tifa was one of the last people to rise that morning. Most everyone else had come and gone about their daily routines, leaving Tifa to her chores – cleaning up the bar. It didn’t take her long to mop sticky floors and wash dirty drink glasses, and she worked by mote, mind instead on the files she’d already begun to go through.

They’d been… disturbing, to say the least. They were organized in chronological order and dealt primarily with training tactics, disciplinary measures, and incident reports. For example, one of the early incident reports stated that Cloud had fallen down a flight of steps after tripping over the Runner’s chain. In another, the report stated he’d talked back to his trainer, resulting in the standard facility punishment, a caning.

If Tifa were being honest with herself, she was reading now more out of grim curiosity. She already knew Cloud had been transferred to the ShinRa Tower branch of the Department of Hospitality. That was all the information she needed to progress on, but it wasn’t where she stopped. A part of her knew it was wrong – these were Cloud’s most intimate moments documented unemotionally on a sheet of paper in a file that had been stored away from everyone who might read it. Now she’d dug it up and was progressing through it, something she had no business doing.

But that didn’t stop Tifa from doing it, because no matter how much the guilt ate at her, the not knowing was killing her inside. She _had_ to know what had happened to her friend. She just had to.

After she finished cleaning, Tifa retreated back up to the attic room and went straight back to work on the files. That was how yesterday had progressed and that was how she was looking to spend today, finishing off those files.

Tifa was an hour into her reading when she came across something. A photocopy of a letter attached to an incident report. She scanned the letter first – an apology written to the training center by a trio of Third Class SOLDIERs for delaying the training of one of their Assets. Cloud, it would seem by context. She read the incident report and felt sick to her stomach.

A broken hip, 3 months on a companionship contract, and a reprimand as punishment for the ones who caused the injury. Tifa was going to be sick. It was worse, in many ways, to read about it with clinical distance. The word rape was never used, but it was impossible not to arrive at that conclusion. Even worse was a report a few days later that made her stomach twist.

“Asset reports frequent nightmares that effect quality of sleep and daily performance. Asset flinches from touch – benign – and refuses sexual training.”

This was before they decided to put him on a companionship contract. A little further down the page.

“Asset informed of the terms of his contract and that willingness to learn is a part of his contract. Prazosin prescribed for the nightmares. As for other problems disciplinary action may be necessary.”

So Cloud had been raped, had begun experiencing the normal aftereffects of trauma – nightmares, withdrawal, and an unwillingness to make or maintain basic human contact and been threatened to clear his actions up or face being sent to the mines instead.

What must that do to a teenager suffering from trauma and potential PTSD? Tifa didn’t even want to fathom it. She wanted to throw the box of papers across the room and scream! How could they do that to a _child_? How could they tell a young man to stop having symptoms of a rape they’d failed to protect him from, something so earthshattering as a violent sexual encounter with men who were supposed to protect him?

Who would Cloud be when she found him again? She wondered. He had been so strong but they’d broken him down. Would she find just a shell of the man she considered her best friend? That was her worst fear – in which the man she loved had died on that snowy mountainside.

 

*~*~*

“Do you have an appointment at the lab?” Zack asked during lunch break. “I thought I saw that on your schedule.”

Sephiroth nodded, tiny and nearly imperceptible. “This afternoon. Routine tests.”

“Routine tests my ass.” Zack replied venomously. “They haven’t been routine for months now. What are they even doing to you? Besides making you sicker than a dog.”

Sephiroth shrugged. “They are studying new ways to give SOLDIERs their mako in an attempt to recreate the experiment that created me.”

“On who?” Zack asked. “I was under the impression that they would need a fetus to recreate you, and the president doesn’t want the cost associated with raising a child.” Not when SOLDIER worked so well as was. They didn’t need another Sephiroth – theirs wasn’t going anyway.

“I do not know what Hojo has in mind, but I do know he is persistent with his experiments and insistent that I submit to them.”

“Dammit!” Zack cursed. “These experiments are killing you.”

Sephiroth didn’t react. “There’s no need to be overdramatic.” He said simply. “The experiments are merely an inconvenience – to both you and me.” He hesitated. “I am still welcome to rest at your place tonight?”

Zack shook his head. “I’ll spend the night at yours tonight. I don’t want to freak out Cloud since he just got here.”

“Cloud?” Sephiroth cocked his head to the side, sending silver hair spilling over one shoulder. “Your new companion, the Golden Rose.”

Internally, Zack cursed himself for his slip up. He didn’t think Cloud wanted his name spread all over SOLDIER. It seemed almost like a secret, with the way he’d waited until they were alone before he gave it. “Yeah, but I wouldn’t go making a big deal of that name. I think he prefers Rose.”

“And how is your new Asset settling in?” Sephiroth asked.

“Fine.” Zack replied. He described the conversation that morning and said, “He’s such an enigma, but I guess that’s why people like him. Rose the Runner. Don’t even know what gender they are.”

“I’m sure if you really want to crack open Rose’s secrets you will.” Sephiroth said. “You have an uncanny ability to break through the toughest shells.” Sephiroth was speaking from experience.

Zack nodded. “I just don’t understand how someone I just met can frustrate me and make me as concerned as Rose does. I nearly had a heart attack this morning when I saw he was gone – and not just because he took my keycard with him. He could have been seriously hurt!”

“You don’t trust the SOLDIERs.” Sephiroth said bluntly and Zack winced.

“Yeah. People take advantage of Assets. Honestly it seems like only you and the Turk Assets are spared from the worst of it. I mean, if you want horror stories, Reno knows all the worst ones. But it’s not right, that’s all.” Zack paused. “Besides, you’ve sat through the same assault prevention training programs I have. You know it happens, and not just to Assets.”

“It’s unlike you to lack trust in your subordinates.” Sephiroth pointed out. “This protective streak wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with your wife, would it?”

Zack shrugged. “It has nothing to do with her. I’d feel this way about her if she were here with me in ShinRa, sure, but she’s perfectly safe where she is. Safer, even, than here. No, it’s Rose who’s not safe and I don’t want anything to happen that I could have prevented.”

Sephiroth nodded in understanding. He was well aware of Zack’s tendency to burden his consciousness when it came to these sorts of things. Gongaga had been a big one, when word came that terrorists had blown the reactor Zack had carried that guilt of not being there with him for a long time.

 

*~*~*

It was early afternoon by the time Cloud awoke feeling like he’d barely slept at all. He’d tossed and turned in his sleep, the blanket falling to the wayside. Now he was hungry and wanted breakfast. Fair had eaten cereal that morning and Cloud wondered if he could get away with eating the same thing. His dietician would kill him for it, but then again she was the one starving him half to death.

There were dirty dishes in the sink but the dishes in the dishwasher were clean. He pulled out a bowl and with a rebellious thrill went ahead and got down the cereal and milk – whole milk too, not that watery fat free kind that he got on special occasions. Sending a silent thanks to Fair for having at least some food in his apartment, Cloud sat down on the couch and flipped on the television. He’d slept right through Midgar Nights, but he figured it probably wouldn’t be as much fun to watch without the other courtesans there to make fun of it with him. Instead it was an afternoon talk show. One of those trashy ones that Mariya really liked to watch. He flipped the channel until he found a special on ShinRa’s latest automobile manufacturing. Car porn. Perfect. He practically had to wrestle the remote out of the other courtesan’s hands in order to get to watch what he wanted. Here he had no competition.

He watched the special before the need to get up and do something overcame him. The apartment, even in the light of the early afternoon, was filthy. He decided to start in the kitchen and worked his way into the living room, working methodically to clean and organize the space. He’d made a decent enough impact and was putting away the clean dishes from the latest load of the dishwasher when Fair opened the door and stepped inside. It was already five pm. Cloud had been working for three hours.

“Wow.” Fair said the moment he stepped through the door into the newly organized living room. “You cleaned. You know you didn’t have to do that.”

Cloud shrugged. What else was he supposed to do with his free time? “I live here too.” He pointed out. “And it needed to be cleaned.”

Fair chuckled in embarrassment. “Yeah, I guess it did. Still, I’m sorry you had to be the one to do it.” His stomach growled just then.

Cloud heard it and said, “I’d make dinner but you have no food. Though if you have time maybe we can run to the commissary or grocery store for food.”

Fair shook his head. “Not tonight. I’ve got a thing with Sephiroth going on later. Let’s order from the cafeteria.”

Cloud smiled to hide his disappointment. It looked like he’d be getting salad for dinner after all. He’d been hoping Fair would want something robust and filling like steak for dinner. While Fair called down to the cafeteria and gave them their ShinRa ID numbers, Cloud finished up the rest of the dishes and took a seat on the newly straightened couch. Fair came to join him a few minutes later, confirming what Cloud already knew, “Sorry, but the only thing they had for your dietary restrictions was a salad so that’s what I ordered for you. Do you have allergies or something?”

Cloud shook his head and briefly explained about his dietician and restricted diet, and then guiltily admitted he’d eaten some of Fair’s cereal that morning. Fair laughed. “Well I say screw it.” He announced. “While you’re living with me you can eat whatever you want. I promise tomorrow we’ll go out and buy some food for the apartment. Besides, you could probably stand to gain a few pounds. You’re so tiny.”

Feeling bolder by Fair’s charisma and easy manner, Cloud dared to tease back, “That’s just because you’re all muscle mass. SOLDIER.”

Fair grinned at him. “Hey, I’m two hundred and fifty pounds of pure muscle and proud of it. Mako makes it easy to put on muscle. Then there’s you.” He grabbed Cloud by the arm, his hand easily encircling it, and Cloud froze, thinking about the last time a SOLDIER had grabbed him.

“Don’t –“ Cloud choked out and tried to pull away. To his surprise, Fair let go immediately.

“Hey, hey, sorry. I didn’t mean to surprise you.” Fair apologized, joviality gone and replaced with somber concern. “Are you all right? You went pale all of a sudden.”

“I’m fine.” Cloud forced himself to breath out. He was fine. He would be fine. He was stronger than this. Fair wouldn’t hurt him. Reno would never have tried to convince Cloud to be his companion if he thought Fair would hurt him. “I just don’t liked to be grabbed is all.” So it was a little bit of a lie. Cloud was used to people grabbing him all the time. Just not SOLDIERs. Never SOLDIERs.

“Sorry.” Fair apologized again. “I won’t do that again.”

Silence fell between them while Cloud focused on getting his heartbeat to slow down. It felt like it was about to pound out of his chest. He’d been seventeen the last time that had happened to him. Someone had yelled – he didn’t remember about what – but the raised voices had caused a mild panic attack. He was rather proud of the fact that he barely had panic attacks anymore, but annoyed that this one had come about so suddenly. He hated this – not feeling safe even in the place where he slept. He had no idea what to expect from Fair.

“Hey, so, how’d you become a courtesan anyway?” Fair asked. Sitting in silence was obviously not his strong suit.

Cloud shrugged. He usually didn’t tell people about the ultimatum. The choice between the mines and the life of a courtesan. “Not many choices for Runners.” He said instead. “So I picked from what I had available.”

“Why did you run?” Fair asked curiously. “Surely you knew what would happen. Were you a criminal or something?”

“No, no.” Cloud said with a wave of his hand. He tucked his bare feet up under him and toyed idly with the Runner’s Chain. “My mom died when I was sixteen so I became a ward of the mayor. He sold me to ShinRa, but I didn’t want that life. So when I heard the knocks on the door I went out the back window. I was heading for Cosmo Canyon when they caught me.”

He didn’t know why he was telling Fair all this. It wasn’t like it mattered. Nobody had ever cared about Cloud’s past before – not even the other courtesans. Sure, the gossip magazines liked to guess at what he’d done to end up in chains, but nobody ever outright asked him. Besides, he couldn’t answer them – it would ruin the Golden Rose’s mystery. Fair was different. He’d asked and he seemed genuinely interested.

“That sucks. So do you like being a courtesan?” Fair asked.

Cloud shrugged. “It is what it is.” He replied vaguely just as a knock sounded on the door.

“Ah, that’s probably our food.” Fair got up and headed for the door, which opened a moment later and Cloud heard the surprise exclamation of “Sephiroth?! You’re supposed to be in the labs.”

Cloud didn’t hear the general’s reply but from his seat on the couch he heard Fair say, “Well go over to your place and I’ll be right there.” The door closed and Fair came back into the living room. “I’m going to spend the night at Sephiroth’s. He lives across the hall and doesn’t like to be alone after his lab appointments. Bring the food over when it arrives, okay?”

Cloud nodded, confused. “Is the general all right?” He asked.

“Yeah.” Fair said. “It’s routine lab work but it makes him sick. At least the sedative they use helps him sleep. I don’t think he’s slept since his last lab appointment.” As he spoke, he went into the bedroom and emerged with a duffel bag. “I’ll leave my keycard here for you but don’t go running off again. Just across the hall to Sephiroth’s all right? Nowhere else, promise me.”

Cloud didn’t even really think about it, but internally he rolled his eyes. Overprotective much? “Yes, I promise.”

Fair also left his PHS for Cloud along with Sephiroth’s number. “Don’t hesitate to come over if you need anything, but you can call too.” Then he was gone and Cloud was left on his own.

Deciding there was really nothing he could do, Cloud turned on the television and watched some of the evening news, feeling a thrill at the rebellion. In Hospitality, he’d have been shooed out of the room if the news was on by Ms. Kaito. Runners weren’t supposed to have access to current events, but Cloud wouldn’t be a Runner for much longer.

There wasn’t much on the news, just a special investigation into Corel and Rocket Town. AVALANCHE, the reporters decided, was behind the events there. The reaction, of course, was a bunch of pissed off engineers in Rocket Town, who pointed out that had the building not come down as clean as it did, they’d have blown up the fuel factory and the town would have been a smudge on the map now. They interviewed Cid Highwind and the courtesan had to smile as they bleeped out every third word out of his mouth. That man hadn’t changed.

A knock on the door came and Cloud figured it must be their food, finally. He flipped off the television and headed for the door opening it to reveal the delivery woman, an Asset by the earring in her ear. “Woah.” The woman said. “You’re the courtesan everyone’s been talking about.”

“Yes.” Cloud said. It was somewhat unusual to run into Assets who greeted him with the star struck awe that free people regarded the courtesans with. “I’m Golden Rose. It’s a pleasure to meet you miss…?”

“Oh, Hilda.” The woman answered. “And I’m sorry for my reaction. I’ve just never seen a courtesan up close before. I work the SOLDIER floors and the cafeteria running deliveries so I guess I’ll be seeing you more often. Zack orders from the cafeteria pretty often.”

“We may.” Cloud replied vaguely. “You call him Zack. Not Commander Fair?”

Hilda shook her head. “Nope. He asked me to call him by his first name when I started delivering. He’s really friendly like that. I’ve been an Asset for a long time and I know that people like him are rare. You’re really lucky to have him on a companionship contract.”

“So I’ve been told.” Cloud replied. Then, because he was supposed to be gathering information, he asked, “Has it by chance been in the news, what happened to me with the Vice President.”

Instantly Hilda’s friendly smile dropped and she looked at him pityingly. “Yeah. I’m sorry that happened to you but you’re in a much better place now. Zack wouldn’t hurt an Asset.”

“Yeah, but companionship contracts only last so long.” Cloud said. He was suddenly reminded of the patience it took to fish. Cast, reel.

Catch.

Hilda looked uncertain, biting her lip and casting her eyes down. “There’s been rumors, but only just that. Just between you and me, Golden Rose. No one else. All right?”

Cloud nodded. “Of course. Not a soul will know.” He lied. He felt kind of bad and for just a second hoped Hilda wasn’t involved in the disappearance of Assets. She seemed like such a nice woman.

“Well they say there’s someone among the other Runners who has a tie to AVALANCHE. He was apparently a munitions expert or something. He might be able to help.”

Interesting. Cloud knew all the other Runners vaguely; Runners all had a set time each week during which they were allowed to remove the chain and exercise for two hours. That was when Cloud’s private trainer made him do his exercise, but he still got to socialize a little bit with the other Runners. They were all a very tight knit group, but Cloud had always remained outside of them, set apart by his fame and the fact that he, alone, had a trainer like everyone in Hospitality did. He wouldn’t be surprised if one of them was former AVALANCHE. Luckily for him he had his weekly workout tomorrow so he could try to follow up on this piece of information.

“Thank you, Hilda. That means a lot to me.” Cloud replied and Hilda’s smile returned.

“You are welcome. Have a good night.” She dropped the containers of food in his hands and left with a cheerful wave.

Cloud took the food back into the apartment and put his salad in the fridge. He debated between eating that or having another bowl of cereal for dinner; he was so sick of salads. For now though he decided to take Fair his food while it was still hot. Grabbing the keycard off the counter he returned to the door and stepped out into the hall. He took the two steps across the hall and knocked on the general’s door.

Fair opened the door after a few moments and cheered when he saw the container of food in Cloud’s hands. “I’m starving, curls. Get in here and we’ll eat.”

Cloud stepped into the general’s apartment. Unlike Fair’s place, it was immaculately clean, all modern white and black with a splash of color here or there, mostly dark midnight blue. The couch was leather, not the comfortable fabric of Fair’s couch, and curled on the couch with his long legs folded under him was Genera Sephiroth, hair braided out of his face and one hand over his mouth and nose.

“Feeling nauseous?” Cloud guessed when he saw the general. He felt a small sting of pity for the man. It sucked to be sick, and Fair had made it sound like this was something of a regular occurrence.

“No more than usual.” Sephiroth answered, to Cloud’s surprise. He lowered his hand. “Mostly I have a headache.”

Cloud nodded sympathetically. “I’m sorry.” He didn’t quite know what else to say so he followed Fair into the kitchen area where the man was fishing out a fork.

“Need something, curls?” Zack asked, taking a bite of his food.

“Yeah, for you to not call me curls.” Cloud muttered. He thought he’d said it under his breath but he hadn’t accounted for SOLDIER hearing. In the living room, Sephiroth gave a huff of a laugh (it barely counted as anything more than that, so soft and quiet Cloud nearly missed it).

Fair looked chagrinned. “Sorry.” He said. “Force of habit. Your hair had those really pretty curls in it yesterday.”

Cloud rolled his eyes. “It’s actually naturally straight.” He explained. “Except when it’s short and then it sticks up every which way. Kind of like your hair actually.”

“Ah, a fellow spikey headed child. That’s what I’m going to call you from now on, Spikey.”

Great. More nicknames. This was probably a losing battle so Cloud accepted his losses and moved on. “I should probably head back to your place and let the general get some rest.” He said.

“Actually, I forgot something over at my place so if you don’t mind can you stay with Sephiroth while I run and get it?” Fair asked. He was almost done with his food already, having wolfed down the spicy noodle dish is record time.

Cloud shrugged. The thought of staying with a SOLDIER he didn’t know made him nervous, but if Sephiroth wanted to take advantage of him, he would have done so this morning when they were alone. There was a risk, but Cloud considered what the worst that could happen was. Another broken hip? Been there, done that.

“Cool. Thanks!” Fair cheered. He finished off his food, dumped the container in the trash, and put the fork in the dish washer. “I’ll be right back, Seph.” He called.

“Take your time.” Sephiroth replied.

There was silence after the door closed and Cloud snuck around to the living room entrance to stare into the room. Sephiroth had his eyes closed and looked almost like he was sleeping. There was a trashcan next to him that had a clean bag in it. Cloud guessed he must really be feeling nauseous to need that.

“So.” Sephiroth said, breaking the silence. “Do you have anything to report to Tseng?”

Cloud froze. Did Sephiroth know about his mission for the Turks? Had he been found out? Was the mission in jeopardy now? “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He lied.

Sephiroth opened one cat-green eye and stared at him. “You were told to report to the Asset watching over the SOLDIERs, weren’t you? Have you found anything out yet?”

Then it dawned on Cloud. “You’re the Asset?!” He nearly shouted. Sephiroth winced and more softly Cloud added, “Sorry. You’re an Asset?”

“Yes.” Sephiroth answered. “Not many people know about my status. It would be bad for PR if it got out that the hero of the Wutai War was an Asset. So please keep that to yourself. Now,” He asked for the third time, “Have you had a chance to discover anything?”

Cloud folded his arms over his chest. “I was prevented from snooping around this morning and trapped in Fair’s apartment all day but the delivery girl did give me some information. A man among the Runners might be connected to AVALANCHE.”

Sephiroth nodded. “That’s not too much of a secret. The Turks already know that. What does Hilda think of him?”

Somewhat surprised that Sephiroth knew the name of the delivery girl until he realized that Sephiroth was like Fair – he took an interest in the people around him. Probably more so, if he felt any affinity for his fellow Assets. “She thinks he may be able to help me escape if I need it.”

“Is that the angle you’re playing? Very wise. After what happened with Rufus I’m sure many of the Assets will be more willing to help you if they can.”

Cloud said nothing in reply for a few moments before deciding to ask. “How about you, have you found anything among the SOLDIERs?”

Sephiroth shook his head. “I’ve been relying on Isaack to share office gossip with me. I don’t have a reputation for being sociable so it would seem out of place if I suddenly began socializing with the SOLDIERs. I’m not sure what the Turks were thinking, asking me to help them. What did they offer you in return for your help?”

“Freedom from the Runner’s chain.” Cloud answered easily. “And a place among the Turks.”

Sephiroth nodded. Then he winced again and leaned over the trashcan and promptly threw up. Cloud rushed over without thinking and pulled the man’s hair away from his face, the few tendrils that clung to perspiration drenched skin that escaped from the braid. The vomit was vaguely glowing and Cloud had to resist the urge to throw up himself at the sight of it. That didn’t look naturally.

“Ingested mako.” Sephiroth explained after several moments of dry heaving. He sat back on his heels. “Can you get me some water.”

Cloud nodded and headed for the kitchen. It took him a few moments to find the cups and he ended up filling it with tap water before returning and handing the glass to Sephiroth. Sephiroth took a few sips before he set the cup on the coffee table in front of him. “The science department has been experimenting with new ways to give SOLDIERs the mako needed for their strength. I will have to report back that this method was a failure.”

Cloud nodded, still a little green himself. “I’m sorry.” He said again. “It can’t be pleasant, being a guinea pig for the science department.” And the man was an Asset to, so it wasn’t like he could say no. Suddenly all fears of being alone with this man dissipated and he took a seat on the couch next to Sephiroth.

“It is not your fault.” Sephiroth answered. He reached for his glass and took another sip. “So do not apologize.”

Cloud nodded. “Still, if there’s anything I can do to help you, I will. I know what it’s like when people do things to you without your consent. It’s awful.”

“Yes.” Sephiroth said. “It is. So thank you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Expect some infrequent updating on this fic. The major reason being that each chapter is between 7,000 and 10,000 words long and that takes me a long time to write that much, especially since I'm working on around five fics at the same time, not all of which get posted. For example, I've been sitting on top of this fic since February.
> 
> You can follow me on Tumblr! Under [Lockea](http://lockea.tumblr.com) I reblog Final Fantasy and Fire Emblem content alongside cute pictures of animals and generally just have a good time (I also answer random questions about Robots, Science, and BDSM) or you can follow my writing tumblr [StorytellerLockea](http://storytellerlockea.tumblr.com) and get early updates on fanfics I'm writing as well as information about what I'm working on.


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